The aim of scientific work is truth. While we internally recognise something as true, we judge, and while we utter judgements, we assert.

A scientist can hardly meet with anything more undesirable than to have the foundations give way just as the work is finished. I was put in this position by a letter from Mr. Bertrand Russell when the work was nearly through the press.

Every good mathematician is at least half a philosopher, and every good philosopher is at least half a mathematician.

The thought: A logical inquiry

It really is worth the trouble to invent a new symbol if we can thus remove not a few logical difficulties and ensure the rigour of the proofs. But many mathematicians seem to have so little feeling for logical purity and accuracy that they will use a word to mean three or four different things, sooner than make the frightful decision to invent a new word.

What are numbers? What is the nature of arithmetical truth?

I compare arithmetic with a tree that unfolds upwards in a multitude of techniques and theorems while the root drives into the depths.