To Torture A Man You Have To

The Only Writers Who Have Any Peace Are The Ones Who Don't Write. And There Are Some Like That. They Wallow In A Sea Of Possibilities. To Express A Thought, You First Have To Limit It, And That Means Kill It. Every Word I Speak Robs Me Of A Thousand Others, And Every Line I Write Means Giving Up Another.

The Whole Plan Hinged Upon The Natural Curiosity Of Potatoes.

Man's Quest For Knowledge Is An Expanding Series Whose Limit Is Infinity, But Philosophy Seeks To Attain That Limit At One Blow, By A Short Circuit Providing The Certainty Of Complete And Inalterable Truth. Science Meanwhile Advances At Its Gradual Pace, Often Slowing To A Crawl, And For Periods It Even Walks In Place, But Eventually It Reaches The Various Ultimate Trenches Dug By Philosophical Thought, And, Quite Heedless Of The Fact That It Is Not Supposed To Be Able To Cross Those Final Barriers To The Intellect, Goes Right On.

Even A Fool Could See That One Didn't Need A War, Nuclear Or Otherwise, To Destroy Oneself; The Rising Cost Of Weaponry Could Do That Quite Nicely.

The Twentieth Century Had Dispensed With The Formal Declaration Of War And Introduced The Fifth Column, Sabotage, Cold War, And War By Proxy, But That Was Only The Begining. Summit Meetings For Disarmament Pursued Mutual Understanding And A Balance Of Power But Were Also Held To Learn The Strengths And Weaknesses Of The Enemy. The World Of The War-or-peace Alternative Became A World In Which War Was Peace And Peace War.