History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes.
Many a necklace becomes a noose.
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.
There are those whose sole claim to profundity is the discovery of exceptions to the rules.
We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.
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.