The Fate Of All Explanation Is To

Every Science Is A Mutilated Octopus. If Its Tentacles Were Not Clipped To Stumps, It Would Feel Its Way Into Disturbing Contacts.

Venus De Milo. To A Child She Is Ugly. When A Mind Adjusts To Thinking Of Her As A Completeness, Even Though, By Physiologic Standards, Incomplete, She Is Beautiful.

The Ideal State Is Meekness, Or Humility, Or The Semi-invalid State Of The Old. Year After Year I Am Becoming Nobler And Nobler. If I Can Live To Be Decrepit Enough, I Shall Be A Saint.

Sometimes I Am A Collector Of Data, And Only A Collector, And Am Likely To Be Gross And Miserly, Piling Up Notes, Pleased With Merely Numerically Adding To My Stores.

But Truth Is That Besides Which There Is Nothing: Nothing To Modify It, Nothing To Question It, Nothing To Form An Exception: The All-inclusive, The Complete - By Truth, I Mean The Universal.