The Chair is necessarily uncomfortable — we're about to enter the age of flight before we've even developed a chair that a man can sit in comfortably

A Chair is stilts for your butt.

A Chair is one big body crutch.

The Chair is anti-gravity machine.

Fear is the fire that melts Icarian wings.

Fear is many-eyed.

Fear is the parent of cruelty.

Fear is the mother of superstition.

Fire is the most tolerable third party.

Fire is the original disinfectant.

Fire is the fruit of a winter’s day.

Fire is constantly turning on its axis to strike at the wind in one direction after another like someone beleaguered who tries to parry blows coming at him at once from all sides.

Grief is a room without doors.

Grief is the essence of humanity — Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.

Grief is a great struggle — grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver.

Grief is a developer of the powers of the mind.