The idea of a personal God is quite alien to me and seems even naïve.

The only way to escape the personal corruption of praise is to go on working. One is tempted to stop and listen to it. The only thing is to turn away and go on working. Work. There is nothing else.

The physicists say that I am a mathematician, and the mathematicians say that I am a physicist. I am a completely isolated man and though everybody knows me, there are very few people who really know me.

The payment of the worker is not determined by the value of his product.

It is true that my parents were worried because I began to speak fairly late, so that they even consulted a doctor. I can't say how old I was - but surely not less than three.

One may say the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.

If I could do it all again, I'd be a plumber.