Could it ever be explained, how matter becomes conscious?

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

Find you, love you, marry you, and live without shame.

For the professors in the academy, for the humanities generally, misery is more amenable to analysis: happiness is a harder nut to crack.

By concentrating on what is good in people, by appealing to their idealism and their sense of justice, and by asking them to put their faith in the future, socialists put themselves at a severe disadvantage.

Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destory?

You can spin stories out of the ways people understand and misunderstand each other.