Like An Ox-cart Driver In Monsoon Season

Somewhere In The World There Was A Young Woman With Such Splendid Understanding That She'd See Him Entire, Like A Poem Or Story, And Find His Words So Valuable After All That When He Confessed His Apprehensions She Would Explain Why They Were In Fact The Very Things That Made Him Precious To Her...and To Western Civilization! There Was No Such Girl, The Simple Truth Being.

A Curious Thing About Written Literature: It Is About Four Thousand Years Old, But We Have No Way Of Knowing Whether Four Thousand Years Constitutes Senility Or The Maiden Blush Of Youth.

History - An Account, Mostly False, Of Events, Mostly Unimportant

You Don't Reach Serendib By Plotting A Course For It. You Have To Set Out In Good Faith For Elsewhere And Lose Your Bearings... Serendipitously.

You’re Probably Wasting Time On Things Like Eating And Sleeping. Cease That, And Read All Of Philosophy And All Of Literature. Also Art. Plus Politics And A Few Other Things. The History Of Everything.