There is no remorse like a remorse of chess. It is a curse upon man. There is no happiness in chess.

Biologically the species is the accumulation of the experiments of all its successful individuals since the beginning.

The establishment of the world community will surely exact a price – and who can tell what that price may be? – in toil, suffering and blood.

Very simple was my explanation, and plausible enough---as most wrong theories are!

It may be that we exist and cease to exist in alternations, like the minute dots in some forms of toned printing or the succession of pictures on a cinema film. It may be that reality is an illusion of movement in an eternal, static, multidimensional universe. We may be only a story written on the ground of the inconceivable; the pattern on a rug beneath the feet of the incomprehensible.

I stood staring, not as yet realising that this was death leaping from man to man in that little distant crowd.

If I am recalling an incident very vividly I go back to the instant of its occurrence; I become absent minded, as you say. I jump back for a moment. Of course we have no means of staying back for any length of time any more than a savage or an animal has of staying six feet above the ground. But a civilized man is better off than the savage in this respect. He can go up against gravitation in a balloon, and why should we not hope that ultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift along the Time Dimension; or even to turn about and travel the other way?