The philosopher who denies free will is like an astronomer who denies the stars.

A cheerful readiness to engage life in all its vicissitudes seems to me the healthiest philosophy.

Does it seem silly to go on asking questions you know have no answer?

Doesn't it seem silly to go on asking questions you know have no answer?

A philosopher who denies free will is like an astronomer who denies the stars.

The poet strips naked. The philosopher takes notes.

The poet in me liberates the philosopher.

Most philosophy is a case of trying to fix something that isn't broken.

Only one question worth asking: why aren't you happy just to be alive?