If You Can Talk Brilliantly About A

If Man Merely Sat Back And Thought About His Impending Termination, And His Terrifying Insignificance And Aloneness In The Cosmos, He Would Surely Go Mad, Or Succumb To A Numbing Sense Of Futility. Why, He Might Ask Himself, Should He Bother To Write A Great Symphony, Or Strive To Make A Living, Or Even To Love Another, When He Is No More Than A Momentary Microbe On A Dust Mote Whirling Through The Unimaginable Immensity Of Space?

The Truth Of A Thing Is In The Feel Of It, Not In The Think Of It.

The Test Of A Work Of Art Is, In The End, Our Affection For It, Not Our Ability To Explain Why It Is Good.

Either You Care, Or You Don't. There's No In-between. And If You Care, Then Go All Of The Way.

The Most Terrifying Fact About The Universe Is Not That It Is Hostile But That It Is Indifferent, But If We Can Come To Terms With This Indifference, Then Our Existence As A Species Can Have Genuine Meaning. However Vast The Darkness, We Must Supply Our Own Light.