Infinity (n.) seems too big to be held in the counters and the board, so we lodge it in our thoughts — though it is queer that those thoughts can then be written down in signs.
Infinity (n.) may come down, in an unbounded card game, to a stack of blank cards, a pencil, and 'and so on' at the end of the rulebook.
Infinity (n.) is a word used as plainly as open is of a door; calling its meaning transcendent rests on a misunderstanding.
Infinity (n.) as a numeral needs a use that is not to be discovered but still to be invented, like the class of angels that fit on a needlepoint.
Infinity (n.) should be avoided in mathematics wherever it seems to give the calculus a meaning instead of getting one from it.
Infinity (n.) cannot be grasped by the finite, people say — but that objection really targets the idea of a psychological act of grasping.
Infinity (n.) loses its paradox when taken in one's stride, as children taught that God made infinitely many stars are simply excused the labour of thinking of an end.
Infinity (n.) where two edges meet is a perspective — far-fetched, which is no reproach, so long as we see how far-fetched.
Infinity (n.) is not beyond human understanding, but beyond the calculus, whose way of conceiving it deserves an accountant's audit.
Infinity (n.) has no path to it, not even an endless one; an endless path has no end infinitely far away, it has none.
Infinity (n.) is known in intension: experience of facts gives the finite, objects contain the infinite, recognized in space's smallest part.
Infinity (n.) has many meanings, and the area is difficult only for the countless pitfalls language lays in our path.
Infinity (n.) is mistaken for a number because both answer 'how many?'