When I have lost all my illusions I search for them

Search has become that thing that we lost and now we've found again. It's a Prodigal Son.

Your voice has haunted every inch of my soul since the last time I heard it…my world had been so dark, void of sound and then I heard you sing again—and it exploded. Everything came crashing down on me that I’d been holding in, and then I was just a mess. But I wasn’t suffering in silence anymore. I was suffering from the impenetrable sound of your voice on repeat in my head.

When you share your last crust of bread with a beggar, you mustn't behave as if you were throwing a bone to a dog. You must give humbly, and thank him for allowing you to have a part in his hunger.

Our experience is composed rather of illusions lost than of wisdom acquired.

I find it illogical to make a case that it's better to be diversified when search is growing so much faster online.