You've seen the sun flatten and take strange shapes just before it sinks in the ocean. Do you have to tell yourself every time that it's an illusion caused by atmospheric dust and light distorted by the sea, or do you simply enjoy the beauty of it?

There is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter.

Doc still loved true things but he knew that it was not a general love and it could be a very dangerous mistress.

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.

Nearly everyone has his box of secret pain.

To finish is sadness to a writer — a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn't really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done.

We have not known a single great scientist who could not discourse freely and interestingly with a child. Can it be that haters of clarity have nothing to say, have observed nothing, have no clear picture of even their own fields?