I've lost all capacity for disbelief. I'm not sure that I could even rise to a little gentle scepticism.

A Chinaman of the T'ang Dynasty—and, by which definition, a philosopher—dreamed he was a butterfly, and from that moment he was never quite sure that he was not a butterfly dreaming it was a Chinese philosopher. Envy him; in his two-fold security.

I don't think I can be expected to take seriously any game which takes less than three days to reach its conclusion.

Death followed by eternity the worst of both worlds. It is a terrible thought.

I'm attracted to the past.

Be happy -- if you're not even happy, what's so good about surviving?

A genuine love of learning is one of the two delinquencies which cause blindness and lead a young man to ruin.