There appear to be no integrating forces, no unified meaning, no true inner understanding of phenomena in our experience of the world. Experts can explain anything in the objective world to us, yet we understand our own lives less and less. In short, we live in the postmodern world, where everything is possible and almost nothing is certain.

When a truth is not given complete freedom, freedom is not complete.

It is not enough to stare up the steps, we must step up the stairs.

In any case, ideals are something we strive for; they are somewhere on the horizon of our efforts; they provide meaning and direction; they are not, however, static quotas that we either fulfill or do not.

There are times when we must sink to the bottom of our misery to understand truth, just as we must descend to the bottom of a well to see the stars in broad daylight.

To serve grand ideas with a major work is not bad, nor is it all there's to art.

If a single writer in a country is in chains, then there are some links of that chain that binds us all.