“And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: O my onely light,
It cannot be
That I am he
On whom thy tempests fell all night.”
...the world is so infinite in its variety that our brief time on it cannot, or at least should not be able, to exhaust our interest.
“It is my regret that I shall not live long enough to explore everything in [the book dealer’s catalog], let alone everything else beside, but it is the glory of the world that its interest is without end. As for my patients who were bored and who created convoluted difficulties for themselves to disguise that fact, I came to the conclusion that the world seemed dull and slow moving to them by comparison with videos, films, shows, and television. The greatest cause of boredom in the modern world is entertainment." `The Glory of the World'
