I'm struck by the insidious, computer-driven tendency to take things out of the domain of muscular activity and put them into the domain of mental activity. The transfer is not paying off. Sure, muscles are unreliable, but they represent several million years of accumulated finesse.
In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be.
For most men life is a search for the proper manila envelope in which to get themselves filed.
Man is the only animal that can remain on friendly terms with the victims he intends to eat until he eats them.
The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.
Never read a book through merely because you have begun it.
A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read.