It's A Sort Of Curious Phenomenon That

The Most Powerful Drive In The Ascent Of Man Is His Pleasure In His Own Skill. He Loves To Do What He Does Well. And Having Done It Well, He Loves To Do It Better.

Every Animal Leaves Traces Of What It Was; Man Alone Leaves Traces Of What He Created.

We Re-make Nature By The Act Of Discovery, In The Poem Or In The Theorem. And The Great Poem And The Deep Theorem Are New To Every Reader, And Yet Are His Own Experiences, Because He Himself Re-creates Them. They Are The Marks Of Unity In Variety; And In The Instant When The Mind Seizes This For Itself, In Art Or In Science, The Heart Misses A Beat.

By The Worldly Standards Of Public Life, All Scholars In Their Work Are Of Course Oddly Virtuous. They Do Not Make Wild Claims, They Do Not Cheat, They Do Not Try To Persuade At Any Cost, They Appeal Neither To Prejudice Nor To Authority . . .

Science Is A Very Human Form Of Knowledge. We Are Always At The Brink Of The Known; We Always Feel Forward For What Is To Be Hoped. Every Judgment In Science Stands On The Edge Of Error And Is Personal. Science Is A Tribute To What We Can Know Although We Are Fallible.