Il n'y a qu'une façon d'apprendre... C'est par l'action.

Our opponent is an alien starship packed with atomic bombs,” I said. “We have a protractor.

I'm going to die," he said aloud--and yawned. He felt no relief, no despair, no fear. The moment of his end would not grant him even the dignity of seriousness. It was an anonymous moment; a few minutes ago, he had held a toothbrush in that hand; now he held a gun with the same casual indifference.

No—the trampling, driving extravert, the one who always feels impelled to Do Something and is never inhibited by doubts or qualms, by sympathy or sensibility.

Written By Aldous Huxley

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