It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason.
Solitude, isolation, are painful things, and beyond human endurance.
Man is never perfect nor contented.
With time and thought, one can do a good job.
Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth.
We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All was black, and such a dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been able to discern even the faintest glimmer.