It is strange that the tactile sense, which is so infinitely less precious to men than sight, becomes at critical moments our main, if not only, handle to reality.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

Discussion in class, which means letting twenty young blockheads and two cocky neurotics discuss something that neither their teacher nor they know.

There he stood, in the camouflage of sun and shade, disfigured by them and masked by his own nakedness.

Genius is finding the invisible link between things.

Satire is a lesson, parody is a game.

The future is but the obsolete in reverse.