"I am alone, as though I stood     On the highest peak of the tired gray world,About me only swirling snow,     Above me, endless space unfurled;With earth hidden and heaven hidden,     And only my own spirit's prideTo keep me from the peace of those     Who are not lonely, having died."

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What merit there is in my thinking is derived from two peculiarities: (1) My inability to be familiar with anything. I simply can't take things for granted. (2) My endless patience. I assume that the only way to find an answer is to hang on long enough and keep groping.

— Eric Hoffer