Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.

The forceps of our minds are clumsy forceps, and crush the truth a little in taking hold of it.

I do not propose to add anything to what has already been written concerning the loss of the "Lady Vain."

The future is the shape of things to come.

About two-thirds of the face of Marx is beard, a vast solemn wooly uneventful beard that must have made all normal exercise impossible. It is not the sort of beard that happens to a man, it is a beard cultivated, cherished, and thrust patriarchally upon the world.

One believes in Stephen Dedalus as one believes in few characters in fiction.

And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers - shriveled now, and brown and flat and brittle - to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of men.