I seem to have the blind self-acceptance of the eccentric who can't conceive that his eccentricities are not clearly understood.

Death is the black backing on the mirror that allows us to see anything at all.

The late philosopher Morris R. Cohen of CCNY was asked by a student in the metaphysics course, Professor Cohen, how do I know that I exist? The keen old prof replied, And who is asking?

... an era of turmoil and ideological confusion, the principal phenomenon of the present age.

I don’t actually take much stock in the collapsing culture bit. I’m beginning to see it instead as the conduct of life without input from your soul.

In an age of madness, to expect to be untouched by madness is a form of madness. But the pursuit of sanity can be a form of madness, too

And I'm convinced that knowing the names of things braces people up.