I Consider Myself An Essayist And A

Children Grow Rapidly, Forget The Centuries-long Embrace From Their Parents, Which To Them Lasted But Seconds. Children Become Adults, Live Far From Their Parents, Live Their Own Houses, Learn Ways Of Their Own, Suffer Pain, Grow Old. Children Curse Their Parents For Their Wrinkled Skin And Hoarse Voices. Those Now Old Children Also Want To Stop Time, But At Another Time. They Want To Freeze Their Own Children At The Center Of Time.

I Think People All Over The Institution Recognize That Different Ways Of Understanding Are Valuable. Artists May Think In A Different Way Than Biologists Or Chemists, But You Can Learn Something From That. It Is True That The Arts At Mit Don't Have The Same Amount Of Funding Or Same Status As The Sciences Or Engineering.

The Tragedy Of This World Is That Everyone Is Alone. For A Life In The Past Cannot Be Shared With The Present.

Nature Is Purposeless. Nature Simply Is. We May Find Nature Beautiful Or Terrible, But Those Feelings Are Human Constructions. Such Utter And Complete Mindlessness Is Hard For Us To Accept. We Feel Such A Strong Connection To Nature. But The Relationship Between Nature And Us Is One-sided. There Is No Reciprocity. There Is No Mind On The Other Side Of The Wall.

I Am Spellbound By The Plays Of Shakespeare. And I Am Spellbound By The Second Law Of Thermodynamics. The Great Ideas In Science, Like The Cro-magnon Paintings And The Plays Of Shakespeare, Are Part Of Our Cultural Heritage.