I Am Constantly Amazed By Man's Inhumanity

The Sea's Only Gifts Are Harsh Blows And, Occasionally, The Chance To Feel Strong.

Imagine Now A Man Who Is Deprived Of Everyone He Loves, And At The Same Time Of His House, His Habits, His Clothes, In Short, Of Everything He Possesses: He Will Be A Hollow Man, Reduced To Suffering And Needs, Forgetful Of Dignity And Restraint, For He Who Loses All Often Loses Himself.

Perfection Belongs To Narrated Events, Not To Those We Live.

The Future Of Humanity Is Uncertain, Even In The Most Prosperous Countries, And The Quality Of Life Deteriorates; And Yet I Believe That What Is Being Discovered About The Infinitely Large And Infinitely Small Is Sufficient To Absolve This End Of The Century And Millennium. What A Very Few Are Acquiring In Knowledge Of The Physical World Will Perhaps Cause This Period Not To Be Judged As A Pure Return Of Barbarism.

But Many, Many Stories Were Told; From What Could Be Gathered, All Fifty Of The Mine's Inhabitants Had Reacted On Each Other, Two By Two, As In Combinatorial Analysis, That Is To Say, Everyone With All The Others, And Especially Every Man With All The Women, Old Maids Or Married, And Every Woman With All The Men. All I Had To Do Was To Select Two Names At Random, Better If Different Sex, And Ask A Third Person, "what Happened With Those Two?" And Lo And Behold, A Splendid Story Was Unfolded For Me, Since Everyone Knew The Story Of Everyone Else.