To have lived long does not necessarily imply the gathering of much wisdom and experience. One who has pedaled twenty-five thousand miles on a stationary bicycle has not circled the globe. He or she has only garnered weariness.

With the stones we cast at them, geniuses build new roads with them.

We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.

Reason is the shepherd trying to corral life's vast flock of wild irrationalities.

We hew and saw and plane facts to make them dovetail with our prejudices, so that they become mere ornaments with which to parade our objectivity.

History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes.

To have lived long does not necessarily imply the gathering of much wisdom and experience. One who has pedaled twenty-five thousand miles on a stationary bicycle has not circled the globe. He or she has only garnered weariness.