Johann Wolfgang Goethe was the last of the so-called universal human beings. I mean by that, he was one of the last of our western civilization to have gained the mastery of every academic discipline. In his long life, he became renowned as a poet, as an artist, as a musician, as a playwright and historian. There was hardly a single facet of human knowledge of which he did not have a tremendous grasp. As he lay dying in 1832, the story is that he suddenly sat up, bolted upright in bed, and cried out with great poignancy, "Light, light, more light." One of his biographers said that this was a fitting climax to this particular individual's life because his whole existence had been dedicated to learning more, to pushing back the parameters of darkness. He died as he lived, wanting to learn more.

Many decades later Miguel Unamuno, the great Spanish philosopher, was reading a biography of Goethe and when he came to the death-bed scene, he allegedly read out loud to his wife what I have just described. Then he closed the book and said very thoughtfully, "You know for all his brilliance, Goethe was mistaken. Instead of crying for light, light, more light, what he should have asked for was warmth, warmth, more warmth, for human beings do not die of the darkness; they die of the cold."