It was not the first time that conscience has turned against the methods of research.
It is possible to believe that all the past is but the beginning of a beginning, and that all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn. It is possible to believe that all the human mind ha...
A boy is a creature of odd feelings.
There is no way out or round or through.
We have nothing to destroy, said Rud. All these things are done for already. They are falling in all over the world. They are dead. No need for destructive activities. But if we have nothing to destro...
I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellect had been. It had committed suicide.
It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.
He knew clearly enough that his imagination was growing traitor to him, and yet at times it seemed the ship he sailed in, his fellow-passengers, the sailors, the wide sea, were all part of a filmy pha...
Nothing endures, nothing is precise and certain (except the mind of a pedant), perfection is the mere repudiation of that ineluctable marginal inexactitude which is the mysterious inmost quality of Be...
The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a l...
Things have been, says the legal mind, and so we are here. The creative mind says we are here because things have yet to be.
…growing a little tiresome on account of some mysterious internal discomfort that the local practitioner diagnosed as imagination
The brown and charred rags that hung from the sides of it, I presently recognized as the decaying vestiges of books. They had long since dropped to pieces, and every semblance of print had left them....
In the next place, wonderful as it seems in a sexual world, the Martians were absolutely without sex, and therefore without any of the tumultuous emotions that arise...
An idiot child screaming in a hospital." (on George Bernard Shaw)
The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.
So utterly at variance is Destiny with all the little plans of men.
Everyone seemed eager to talk at once, and the result was Babel.
Very simple was my explanation, and plausible enough---as most wrong theories are!
Well, anyhow, the practical outcome of all these damn democratic ideas, is that men of our quality -- yes, damn it! we have a quality -- excuse themselves from the hard and thankless service they owe...
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