Nothing remains but desire, and desire comes howling down Elysian Fields like a mistral.
It is not merely the truth of science that makes it beautiful, but its simplicity.
Since grief only aggravates your loss, grieve not for what is past.
The present age is demented. It is possessed by a sense of dislocation, a loss of personal identity, an alternating sentimentality and rage which, in an individual patient, could be characterized as dementia.
To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something.
Classes? Categories? Was that what we had come to?