I Believe In No Final Solutions.

Our Ability To Adapt And Therefore To Accept Everything Is One Of Our Greatest Dangers. Creatures That Are Completely Flexible, Changeable, Can Have No Fixed Morality.

It Has No Meaning, What Do You Use To Write, The Only Thing That Is Important Is: What Do You Write. A Machine To Write A Book Instead Of A Writer Is Not Invented Yet, And Probably Will Never Be.

The Night Stared Me In The Face, Amorphous, Blind, Infinite, Without Frontiers. Not A Single Start Relieved The Darkness Behind The Glass.

Of The Two Powers, The Two Categories That Take Possession Of Us When We Enter The World (from Where?), Space Is By Far The Less Mysterious. It, Too, Undergoes Transformations. Time, On The Other Hand, Is A Hostile Element, Truly Treacherous, I Would Even Say Against Human Nature.

The Fate Of A Single Man Can Be Rich With Significance, That Of A Few Hundred Less So, But The History Of Thousands And Millions Of Men Does Not Mean Anything At All, In Any Adequate Sense Of The Word.