Yields falsehood when preceded by its quotation.

Logic is an old subject, and since 1879 it has been a great one.

Logic chases truth up the tree of grammar.

The lore of our fathers is a fabric of sentences. A pale gray lore, black with fact and white with convention.

Life is agid, life is fulgid. Life is what the least of us make most of us feel the least of us make the most of. Life is a burgeoning, a quickening of the dim primordial urge in the murky wastes of time.

Life is what the least of us make the most of us feel the least of us make the most of.

For me the problem of induction is a problem about the world: a problem of how we, as we are now (by our present scientific lights), in a world we never made, should stand better than random, or coin-tossing chances changes of coming out right when we predict by inductions. . . .