A man with a fixed idea is like a small child with a secret — he tries to hide it but he cannot help himself, and before long some slight provocation will send it gushing forth.
One’s former selves ought to be labeled with subscripts for the year, like isotopes with their atomic weights.
One is the trustiest sample size.
The frequency of demands for citations and evidence varies inversely with the capacity to understand them. “Source?” is a verbal tic, like Tourette’s.
The writer who does not disappoint in person has left too little of himself on the page.
Follow the science, at a discreet distance, say five or ten years.
Some feel a small secret joy when breaking a rule, others when following one.
Without gods, religions run amok.
The crisis is not that the press is distrusted: the press has always been distrusted. The crisis is that this has finally dawned on the press.
A civilization that values chiefly what it can measure will produce expensive ugliness, as we observe.