[...] Not that the light from remote galaxies are not reaching us, it will never come to us, is an allegory of our society. How much of our science is also proud science fiction, a model whose only demonstrable veritas is that of mathematics, mathematics playing their own games self-absorbed?
[...] Every one of us has had the frustrating experience of conscience, of a barrier to understanding. 'Stumble', at times viscerally, with impalpable but rigid walls of language. The poet, the thinker, the masters of the metaphor are scratches on the wall. However, the world, both inside and outside of us, muttering words that we can not distinguish. Proclaims that 'tones not heard' are the sweetest. Cézanne angry with modest witness the inability of his eyes to penetrate the depth of the landscape in front. The pure mathematician is aware of the intractable although there is no safe way to capture the source of that failure to resolve. The most inspired thinking is powerless before death, an impotence that has generated our metaphysical and religious scenarios. (I shall return to this.) Sailing thinking much as it reveals, probably more.
A seventh reason for that Schleier der Schwermut ('veil of pasadumbre').
'Ten (possible) reasons for the sadness of the thought' of George Steiner.
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