At the beginning of the nineteenth century Hegel wrote that every philosopher is a child of his time and none can jump over his own shadow: every philosophy, then, is “its time grasped in… Read More

Death, as Hamlet tells us, is endless silence. But it is also noise: the sounds of mourning, of a casket lowered into the ground, or—if the dead happened to be famous—of constant keyboard clatter.… Read More

The reflections I share in this space may appear, at moments, to indulge in the barbed and the bitter, and the reader unfamiliar with my subject and with my own work, and otherwise disinclined… Read More

Occasionally I have the pleasure of being arrested by some earnest phrase in a work of science that takes a part of the world and sets it moving. This happened when I read, for… Read More