Beauty is boring because it is predictable.
We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death.
Socrates ... did not write. It seems academically obvious that he perished because he did not publish!
What does culture want? To make infinity comprehensible.
What did I really think fifteen years ago? A nonbeliever, I felt guilty in the midst of all those believers. And since it seemed to me that they were in the right, I decided to believe, as you might decide to take an aspirin: It can't hurt and you might get better.
Man's principle trait is a readiness to believe anything. Otherwise, how could the Church have survived for almost two thousand years in the absense of universal gullibility?