Nothing is built on stone; all is built on sand, but we must build as if the sand were stone.

My father and he had cemented one of those English friendships which begin by avoiding intimacies and eventually eliminate speech altogether.

Not a single star will be left in the night. The night will not be left. I will die and, with me, the weight of the intolerable universe. I shall erase the pyramids, the medallions, the continents and faces. I shall erase the accumulated past. I shall make dust of history, dust of dust. Now I am looking on the final sunset. I am hearing the last bird. I bequeath nothingness to no one.

All theories are legitimate, no matter. What matters is what you do with them.

Reality may avoid the obligation to be interesting, but ... hypotheses may not.

What will die with me when I die, what pathetic or fragile form will the world lose?

The future has no other reality than as present hope, and the past is no more than present memory.