“I believe that when I die I shall rot, and nothing of my ego will survive. I am not young and I love life. But I should scorn to shiver with terror at the thought of annihilation. Happiness is nonetheless true happiness because it must come to an end, nor do thought and love lose their value because they are not everlasting. Many a man has borne himself proudly on the scaffold; surely the same pride should teach us to think truly about man's place in the world. Even if the open windows of science at first make us shiver after the cosy indoor warmth of traditional humanizing myths, in the end the fresh air brings vigour, and the great spaces have a splendour of their own.”

“Many a man has borne himself proudly on the scaffold; surely the same pride should teach us to think truly about man's place in the world. Even if the open windows of science at first make us shiver after the cosy indoor warmth of traditional humanising myths, in the end the fresh air brings vigour, and the great spaces have a splendour of their own.”

“Even if the open windows of science at first make us shiver after the cozy indoor warmth of traditional humanizing myths, in the end the fresh air brings vigor, and the great spaces have a splendor of their own.”

“I'm not proud, but I'm happy, and I think happiness makes a man even blinder than pride.”

“I choose to believe that I owe my verylife to you--ay--smile, and think it an exaggeration if you will.I believe it, because it adds a value to that life to think--oh,Miss Hale!' continued he, lowering his voice to such a tenderintensity of passion that she shivered and trembled before him,'to think circumstance so wrought, that whenever I exult inexistence henceforward, I may say to myself, "All this gladnessin life, all honest pride in doing my work in the world, all thiskeen sense of being, I owe to her!" And it doubles the gladness,it makes the pride glow, it sharpens the sense of existence tillI hardly know if it is pain or pleasure, to think that I owe itto one--nay, you must, you shall hear'--said he, steppingforwards with stern determination--'to one whom I love, as I donot believe man ever loved woman before.' He held her hand tightin his. He panted as he listened for what should come. ”

“There is nothing more terrible, I learned, than having to face the objects of a dead man. Things are inert: that have meaning only in function of the life that makes use of them. When that life ends, the things change, even though they remain the same. […] they say something to us, standing there not as objects but as remnants of thought, of consciousness, emblems of the solitude in which a man comes to make decisions about himself.”