They Looked Down On Her; And She

The Supposed Great Misery Of Our Century Is The Lack Of Time; Our Sense Of That, Not A Disinterested Love Of Science, And Certainly Not Wisdom, Is Why We Devote Such A Huge Proportion Of The Ingenuity And Income Of Our Societies To Finding Faster Ways Of Doing Things - As If The Final Aim Of Mankind Was To Grow Closer Not To A Perfect Humanity, But To A Perfect Lightning-flash.

The Word Is The Most Imprecise Of Signs. Only A Science-obsessed Age Could Fail To Comprehend That This Is Its Great Virtue, Not Its Defect.

Love Is The Mystery Between Two People, Not The Identity.

The Craving To Risk Death Is Our Last Great Perversion. We Come From Night, We Go Into Night. Why Live In Night?

We Can Sometimes Recognize The Looks Of A Century Ago On A Modern Face; But Never Those Of A Century To Come.