The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success.

We seem to have a compulsion these days to bury time capsules in order to give those people living in the next century or so some idea of what we are like.

The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.

In science, 'fact' can only mean 'confirmed to such a degree that it would be perverse to withhold provisional assent.' I suppose that apples might start to rise tomorrow, but the possibility does not merit equal time in physics classrooms.

We can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming.