It has often been said, and certainly not without justification, that the man of science is a poor philosopher.

The scientist finds his reward in what Henri Poincare calls the joy of comprehension, and not in the possibility of application to which any discovery may lead.

When we are working at something, we come down from our high logical horse and sniff around with our nose to the ground. Then we obliterate our traces in order to become more God-like.

It is only to the individual that a soul is given. And the high destiny of the individual is to serve rather than to rule, or to impose himself in any other way.

The restriction of knowledge to an elite group destroys the spirit of the society and leads to its intellectual impoverishment.

Why is it that no one understands me and everybody likes me

A desk, some pads, a pencil, and a large basket -- to hold all of mu mistakes.