Science is spectral analysis. Art is light synthesis.
Barbershop conversations are irrefutable proof that heads exist for the sake of hair.
When a culture feels that its end has come, it sends for a priest.
It is either a half-truth or a truth and a half.
The press, that goiter of the world, swells up with the desire for conquest and bursts with the achievements which every day brings. A week has room for the boldest climax of the human drive for expansion.
It is the style of idealism to console itself for the loss of something old with the ability to gape at something new.