After a while, the residents of the sea do not hear the sound of the waves.
How bitter it is, the story of routine.
Everybody pays attention to pictures of things. Nobody pays attention to things themselves.
It is your fate, forgetfulness. All of the old lessons of life, you lose and gain and lose and gain again.
Perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.
It’s life that matters, nothing but life—the process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all.
What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.