Eyes—the head’s chief of police. They watch and make mental notes. A blind person is like a city abandoned by the authorities. On sad days they cry. … - Anton Chekhov

While you’re playing cards with a regular guy or having a bite to eat with him, he seems a peaceable, good-humoured and not entirely dense person. But just begin a conversation with him about something inedible, politics or science, for instance, and he ends up in a deadend or starts in on such an obtuse and base philosophy that you can only wave your hand and leave.

There are in life such confluences of circumstances that render the reproach that we are not Voltaires most inopportune.

Thought and beauty, like a hurricane or waves, should not know conventional, delimited forms.