I Think Of An Intellectual As Just

All Human Relations Untouched By Love Take Place In The Dark

I Now Wish That I Had Spent Somewhat More Of My Life With Verse. This Is Not Because I Fear Having Missed Out On Truths That Are Incapable Of Statement In Prose. There Are No Such Truths; There Is Nothing About Death That Swinburne And Landor Knew But Epicurus And Heidegger Failed To Grasp. Rather, It Is Because I Would Have Lived More Fully If I Had Been Able To Rattle Off More Old Chestnuts — just As I Would Have If I Had Made More Close Friends.

The World Does Not Speak. Only We Do. The World Can, Once We Have Programmed Ourselves With A Language, Cause Us To Hold Beliefs. But It Cannot Propose A Language For Us To Speak. Only Other Human Beings Can Do That.

There Is Nothing Deep Down Inside Us Except What We Have Put There Ourselves.

What Counts As Rational Argumentation Is As Historically Determined And As Context-dependent, As What Counts As Good French.