We possess nothing certainly except the past.

My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time.

'perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped b…

'...I wonder if you remember the story mummy read us the evening Sebastian first got drunk - I mean the bad evening. 'Father Brown' said something like 'I caug…

Mathematical knowledge may, just like our scientific knowledge, be deep and broad, it may be subtle and wonderfully explanatory, it may be uncontroversially ac…

It seems to me that science has a much greater likelihood of being true in the main than any philosophy hitherto advanced (I do not, of course, except my own).…

Not only can no one predict the future, we don't understand the present - and there isn't even any certainty about the past.