Life isn't worth living, unless it is lived for someone else.
Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper.
If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be called research, would it?
Each of us is here for a brief sojourn, for what purpose he knows not, though sometimes he thinks he feels it.
All of science is nothing more than the refinement of everyday thinking.
Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions.