Philosophers Are People Who Do Violence, But

It Is Life That Does The Thinking All Around Us, Forming With Playful Ease The Connections Our Reason Can Only Laboriously Patch Together Piecemeal, And Never To Such Kaleidoscopic Effect.

Mathematics Is The Source Of A Wicked Intellect That, While Making Man The Lord Of The Earth, Also Makes Him The Slave Of The Machine.

Each Person Is A Graveyard Of His Thoughts. They Are Most Beautiful For Us In The Moment Of Their Birth; Later We Can Often Sense A Deep Pain That They Leave Us Indifferent Where Earlier They Enchanted Us.

One Must Conform To The Baseness Of An Age Or Become Neurotic.

... The Genius Never Makes Anything New, But Always Something That Is Just Different, And The Average Talents Provide Him The Possibility Within Which His Genius Condenses Into Achievements.