If ... It Is Not In My

The Reading Of All Good Books Is Indeed Like A Conversation With The Noblest Men Of Past Centuries Who Were The Authors Of Them, Nay A Carefully Studied Conversation, In Which They Reveal To Us None But The Best Of Their Thoughts.

Reason Is Nothing Without Imagination.

Some Years Ago I Was Struck By The Large Number Of Falsehoods That I Had Accepted As True In My Childhood, And By The Highly Doubtful Nature Of The Whole Edifice That I Had Subsequently Based On Them. I Realized That It Was Necessary, Once In The Course Of My Life, To Demolish Everything Completely And Start Again Right From The Foundations If I Wanted To Establish Anything At All In The Sciences That Was Stable And Likely To Last.

Because Reason...is The Only Thing That Makes Us Men, And Distinguishes Us From The Beasts, I Would Prefer To Believe That It Exists, In Its Entirety, In Each Of Us.

In God There Is An Infinitude Of Things Which I Cannot Comprehend, Nor Possibly Even Reach In Any Way By Thought; For It Is The Nature Of The Infinite That My Nature, Which Is Finite And Limited, Should Not Comprehend It.