I have come to the conclusion that my subjective account of my motivation is largely mythical on almost all occasions. I don't know why I do things.

This is my prediction for the future: Whatever hasn't happened will happen, and no one will be safe from it.

An ounce of algebra is worth a ton of verbal argument.

The conservative has but little to fear from the man whose reason is the servant of his passions, but let him beware of him in whom reason has become the greatest and most terrible of the passions. These are the wreckers of outworn empires and civilisations, doubters, disintegrators, deicides.

The Creator would appear as endowed with a passion for stars, on the one hand, and for beetles on the other, for the simple reason that there are nearly 300,000 species of beetle known, and perhaps more, as compared with somewhat less than 9,000 species of birds and a little over 10,000 species of mammals.

Haldane was engaged in discussion with an eminent theologian. "What inference," asked the latter, "might one draw about the nature of God from a study of his works?" Haldane replied: "An inordinate fondness for beetles."

I have never yet met a healthy person who worried very much about his health, or a really good person who worried much about his own soul.