We are bound to our bodies like an oyster to its shell.

Every man is a poet when he is in love.

Love' is the name for our pursuit of wholeness, for our desire to be complete.

It was Plato, according to Sosigenes, who set this as a problem for those concerned with these things, through what suppositions of uniform and ordered movements the appearances concerning the movements of the wandering heavenly bodies could be preserved.

The seen is the changing, the unseen is the unchanging.

Either we shall find what it is we are seeking or at least we shall free ourselves from the persuasion that we know what we do not know.

In particular I may mention Sophocles the poet, who was once asked in my presence, How do you feel about love, Sophocles? are you still capable of it? to which he replied, Hush! if you please: to my great delight I have escaped from it, and feel as if I had escaped from a frantic and savage master. I thought then, as I do now, that he spoke wisely. For unquestionably old age brings us profound repose and freedom from this and other passions.