The new American finds his challenge and his love in the traffic-choked streets, skies nested in smog, choking with the acids of industry, the screech of rubber and houses leashed in against one another while the town lets wither a time and die.

The literature of science is filled with answers found when the question propounded had an entirely different direction and end.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?

I believe that love cannot be bought except with love.

Can you honestly love a dishonest thing?

I find out of long experience that I admire all nations and hate all governments

It's almost impossible to read a fine thing without wanting to do a fine thing.