I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves.
We feel that even if all possible scientific questions be answered, the problems of life have still not been touched at all.
Ideas too sometimes fall from the tree before they are ripe.
I really do think with my pen, because my head often knows nothing about what my hand is writing.
The limits of your language are the limits of your world.
Knowledge is in the end based on acknowledgement.
The agreement or disagreement or its sense with reality constitutes its truth or falsity.
A serious and good philosophical work could be written consisting entirely of jokes.
Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.
The real question of life after death isn't whether or not it exists, but even if it does what problem this really solves.
Not how the world is, but that it is, is the mystery.
What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.