Books Are Where Things Are Explained To

Nature Is So Exact, It Hurts Exactly As Much As It Is Worth, So In A Way One Relishes The Pain. If It Didn't Matter, It Wouldn't Matter.

We Live With Such Easy Assumptions, Don't We? For Instance, That Memory Equals Events Plus Time. But It's All Much Odder Than This. Who Was It Said That Memory Is What We Thought We'd Forgotten? And It Ought To Be Obvious To Us That Time Doesn't Act As A Fixative, Rather As A Solvent. But It's Not Convenient--- It's Not Useful--- To Believe This; It Doesn't Help Us Get On With Our Lives; So We Ignore It.

What Is History? Any Thoughts, Webster?' 'history Is The Lies Of The Victors,' I Replied, A Little Too Quickly. 'yes, I Was Rather Afraid You'd Say That. Well, As Long As You Remember That It Is Also The Self-delusions Of The Defeated. ... 'finn?' '"history Is That Certainty Produced At The Point Where The Imperfections Of Memory Meet The Inadequacies Of Documentation." (quoting Patrick Lagrange)

When We're Young, Everyone Over The Age Of Thirty Looks Middle-aged, Everyone Over Fifty Antique. And Time, As It Goes By, Confirms That We Weren't That Wrong. Those Little Age Differentials, So Crucial And So Gross When We Are Young Erode. We End Up All Belonging To The Same Category, That Of The Non-young. I've Never Much Minded This Myself.

You Put Together Two People Who Have Not Been Put Together Before. Sometimes It Is Like That First Attempt To Harness A Hydrogen Balloon To A Fire Balloon: Do You Prefer Crash And Burn, Or Burn And Crash? But Sometimes It Works, And Something New Is Made, And The World Is Changed. Then, At Some Point, Sooner Or Later, For This Reason Or That, One Of Them Is Taken Away. And What Is Taken Away Is Greater Than The Sum Of What Was There. This May Not Be Mathematically Possible; But It Is Emotionally Possible.