In my relativity theory I set up a clock at every point in space, but in reality I find it difficult to provide even one clock in my room.

In my experience, the best creative work is never done when one is unhappy.

The individual feels the futility of human desires and aims and the sublimity and marvelous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in the world of thought.

Nothing happens til something moves.

I have firmly decided to bite the dust with a minimum of medical assistance when my time comes, and up to then to sin to my wicked heart's content.

Only a monomaniac gets anything done.

I wouldn't want to live if I did not have my work. In any case, it's good that I'm already old and personally don't have to count on a prolonged future.