When you live with beautiful things you stimulate your mind, you enjoy life a little bit more.
For it is the duty of an astronomer to compose the history of the celestial motions through careful and expert study.
Astronomy is written for astronomers
The strongest affection and utmost zeal should, I think, promote the studies concerned with the most beautiful objects. This is the discipline that deals with the universe's divine revolutions, the stars' motions, sizes, distances, risings and settings. . . for what is more beautiful than heaven?
Since, then, there is no objection to the mobility of the Earth, I think it must now be considered whether several motions are appropriate for it, so that it can be regarded as one of the wandering stars. For the fact that it is not the centre of all revolutions is made clear by the apparent irregular motion of the wandering stars, and their variable distances from the Earth, which cannot be understood in a circle having the same centre as the Earth.
Hence I feel no shame in asserting that this whole region engirdled by the moon, and the center of the earth, traverse this grand circle amid the rest of the planets in an annual revolution around the sun. Near the sun is the center of the universe. Moreover, since the sun remains stationary, whatever appears as a motion of the sun is really due rather to the motion of the earth.
So if the worth of the arts were measured by the matter with which they deal, this art-which some call astronomy, others astrology, and many of the ancients the consummation of mathematics-would be by far the most outstanding. This art which is as it were the head of all the liberal arts and the one most worthy of a free man leans upon nearly all the other branches of mathe matics. Arithmetic, geometry, optics, geodesy, mechanics, and whatever others, all offer themselves in its service.
A mistake is an event, the full benefit of which has not yet been turned to your advantage.
Vanity, I am sensible, is my cardinal vice and cardinal folly; and I am in continual danger, when in company, of being led an ignis fatuus chase by it.
In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable.
When it came to spankings, my dad never used a belt. One time he grabbed a piece of my Hot Wheels race car track. In my mind I'm thinking, 'Great, now I'm being beaten with my own toys. . . ' Thank God I didn't get that wood burning set I wanted.