... between the elements of the continuum [there is supposed to be] a sort of intimate bond which makes a whole of them, in which the point is not pr… - Henri Poincaré

Le savant digne de ce nom, le géomètre surtout, éprouve en face de son œuvre la même impression que l'artiste ; sa jouissance est aussi grande et de même nature.

We should like to represent... the... universe, and... feel... we understood it. We... never can attain this representation: our weakness is too great. But... we desire... to conceive an infinite intelligence... which should see all, and... classify all in its time, as we classify, in our time, the little we see. ...[T]his supreme intelligence would be only a ; infinite in one sense... limited in another, since it would have... imperfect recollection of the past... otherwise all recollections would be equally present... and for it there would be no time.

The very possibility of mathematical science seems an insoluble contradiction. If this science is deductive in appearance only, from where does it get its perfect rigor that no one dares to doubt? If, on the contrary, all the propositions it sets forth can be derived from one another by the rules of formal logic, why is mathematics not reducible to an immense tautology? Syllogism can teach us nothing that is essentially new and, if everything originated in the principle of identity, it should also be possible to reduce everything to it. Are we then to concede that the statements of all those theorems filling so many volumes are merely roundabout ways of saying that A is A?