After all, what else is scientific enquiry of any sort other than a controlled version of banging one's head against the universe until something gives?

I don't read the Sunday papers; or the dailies, either

Love is an optical illusion that makes you believe the object of your affection is the most beautiful person in the world.

In spite of really intense competition for the job, I'm still my own worst enemy.

After all, what else is scientific enquiry of any sort other than a controlled version of banging one's head against the universe until something gives?

Everything is out there if you know how to find it, and have the patience. I don't and haven't, but that's my problem

Telling lies is a bit like tiling bathrooms - if you don't know how to do it properly, it's best not to try.