The car ran almost noiselessly. It ran as if gravity had no power over it. Houses glided past, churches, villages, the golden spots of the estaminets and bistros, a gleaming river, a mill, and then again the even contour of the plain, the sky arching above it like the inside of a huge shell in whose milky nacre shimmered the pearl of the moon.

What is learning: accumulating knowledge? Or transforming our lives?

Many of us are more capable than some of us... but none of us is as capable as all of us!

It seems to me that it will be very wearisome to be a man.

Written By Pierre Loti

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