Home may be where the heart is but it's no place to spend Wednesday afternoon.

Not to be onto something is to be in despair.

But there is much to be said for giving up ... grand ambitions and living the most ordinary life imaginable.

It is not merely the truth of science that makes it beautiful, but its simplicity.

One of the peculiar ironies of being a human self in the Cosmos: A stranger approaching you in the street will in a second's glance see you whole, size you up, place you in a way in which you cannot and never will, even though you have spent a lifetime with yourself, live in the Century of the Self, and therefore ought to know yourself best of all.

Home may be where the heart is but it's no place to spend Wednesday afternoon.

Have you noticed that only in time of illness or disaster or death are people real? I remember at the time of the wreck-- people were so kind and helpful and solid. Everyone pretended that our lives until that moment had been every bit as real as the moment itself and that the future must be real too, when the truth was that our reality had been purchased only by Lyell's death. In another hour or so we had all faded out again and gone our dim ways.