Accidental Discoveries Quotes

Outside, the ocean was crashing, waves hitting sand, then pulling back to sea. I thought of everything being washed away, again and again. We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn't really make anything neater. It just masks what is below. It's only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are.

It is not how much you love someone, but who you are when you are with him.

Pasteur said, like all great discoverers, he knew something about accidental discoveries. The best way to get maximal exposure is to keep researching. Collect opportunities--

It was so quiet, I could hear my own breathing, loud in my ears. Outside, the ocean was crashing, waves hitting sand, then pulling back to sea. I thought of everything being washed away, again and again. We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn't really make anything any neater. It just masks what is below. It's only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are.

Great discoveries are made accidentally less often than the populace likes to think. (Commenting on how an accident led to the discovery of X-rays)

making some types of errors is the most rational thing to do, when the errors are of little cost, as they lead to discoveries. For instance, most medical “discoveries”are accidental to something else. An error-free world would have no penicillin, no chemotherapy…almost no drugs, and most probably no humans. This is why I have been against the state dictating to us what we “should”be doing: only evolution knows if the “wrong”thing is really wrong, provided there is skin in the game to allow for selection.

The history of human knowledge has so uninterruptedly shown that to collateral, or incidental, or accidental events we are indebted for the most numerous and most valuable discoveries, that it has at length become necessary, in any prospective view of improvement, to make not only large, but the largest allowances for inventions that shall arise by chance, and quite out of the range of ordinary expectation. It is no longer philosophical to base, upon what has been, a vision of what is to be. Accident is admitted as a portion of the substructure. We make chance a matter of absolute calculation. We subject the unlooked for and unimagined, to the mathematical formulae of the schools.

Hive Queen: They never know anything. They don't have enough years in their little lives to come to an understanding of anything at all. And yet they think they understand. From earliest childhood, they delude themselves into thinking they comprehend the world, while all that's really going on is that they've got some primitive assumptions and prejudices. As they get older they learn a more elevated vocabulary in which to express their mindless pseudo- knowledge and bully other people into accepting their prejudices as if they were truth, but it all amounts to the same thing. Individually, human beings are all dolts. Pequenino: While collectively... Hive Queen: Collectively, they're a collection of dolts. But in all their scurrying around and pretending to be wise, throwing out idiotic half-understood theories about this and that, one or two of them will come up with some idea that is just a little bit closer to the truth than what was already known. And in a sort of fumbling trial and error, about half the time the truth actually rises to the top and becomes accepted by people who still don't understand it, who simply adopt it as a new prejudice to be trusted blindly until the next dolt accidentally comes up with an improvement.> Pequenino: So you're saying that no one is ever individually intelligent, and groups are even stupider than individuals-- and yet by keeping so many fools engaged in pretending to be intelligent, they still come up with some of the same results that an intelligent species would come up with. Hive Queen: Exactly.

...everybody alive is a lost and disastrous mess...the scattered moments of kinship we feel with others are, when reduced to their most basic elements, accidental discoveries of kinship with ourselves.

Have you ever wondered What happens to all the poems people write? The poems they never let anyone else read? Perhaps they are Too private and personal Perhaps they are just not good enough. Perhaps the prospect of such a heartfelt expression being seen as clumsy shallow silly pretentious saccharine unoriginal sentimental trite boring overwrought obscure stupid pointless or simply embarrassing is enough to give any aspiring poet good reason to hide their work from public view. forever. Naturally many poems are IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED. Burnt shredded flushed away Occasionally they are folded Into little squares And wedged under the corner of An unstable piece of furniture (So actually quite useful) Others are hidden behind a loose brick or drainpipe or sealed into the back of an old alarm clock or put between the pages of AN OBSCURE BOOK that is unlikely to ever be opened. someone might find them one day, BUT PROBABLY NOT The truth is that unread poetry Will almost always be just that. DOOMED to join a vast invisible river of waste that flows out of suburbia. well Almost always. On rare occasions, Some especially insistent pieces of writing will escape into a backyard or a laneway be blown along a roadside embankment and finally come to rest in a shopping center parking lot as so many things do It is here that something quite Remarkable takes place two or more pieces of poetry drift toward each other through a strange force of attraction unknown to science and ever so slowly cling together to form a tiny, shapeless ball. Left undisturbed, this ball gradually becomes larger and rounder as other free verses confessions secrets stray musings wishes and unsent love letters attach themselves one by one. Such a ball creeps through the streets Like a tumbleweed for months even years If it comes out only at night it has a good Chance of surviving traffic and children and through a slow rolling motion AVOIDS SNAILS (its number one predator) At a certain size, it instinctively shelters from bad weather, unnoticed but otherwise roams the streets searching for scraps of forgotten thought and feeling. Given time and luck the poetry ball becomes large HUGE ENORMOUS: A vast accumulation of papery bits That ultimately takes to the air, levitating by The sheer force of so much unspoken emotion. It floats gently above suburban rooftops when everybody is asleep inspiring lonely dogs to bark in the middle of the night. Sadly a big ball of paper no matter how large and buoyant, is still a fragile thing. Sooner or LATER it will be surprised by a sudden gust of wind Beaten by driving rain and REDUCED in a matter of minutes to a billion soggy shreds. One morning everyone will wake up to find a pulpy mess covering front lawns clogging up gutters and plastering car windscreens. Traffic will be delayed children delighted adults baffled unable to figure out where it all came from Stranger still Will be the Discovery that Every lump of Wet paper Contains various faded words pressed into accidental verse. Barely visible but undeniably present To each reader they will whisper something different something joyful something sad truthful absurd hilarious profound and perfect No one will be able to explain the Strange feeling of weightlessness or the private smile that remains Long after the street sweepers have come and gone.

Beli, who'd been waiting for something exactly like her body her whole life, was sent over the moon by what she now knew. By the undeniable concreteness of her desirability which was, in its own way, Power. Like the accidental discovery of the One Ring. Like stumbling into the wizard Shazam's cave or finding the crashed ship of the Green Lantern! Hypatia Belicia Cabral finally had power and a true sense of self. Started pinching her shoulders back, wearing the tightest clothes she had. Dios mío, La Inca said every time the girl headed out. Why would God give you that burden in this country of all places!

Pepsi.

A vitamin is a substance that makes you ill if you don’t eat it. —Albert Szent-Györgyi, chemist

In 1997, the NCI director, Richard Klausner, responding to reports that cancer mortality had remained disappointingly static through the nineties, argued that the medical realities of one decade had little bearing on the realities of the next. “There are far more good historians than there are good prophets,” Klausner wrote. “It is extraordinarily difficult to predict scientific discovery, which is often propelled by seminal insights coming from unexpected directions. The classic example—Fleming’s discovery of penicillin on moldy bread and the monumental impact of that accidental finding—could not easily have been predicted, nor could the sudden demise of iron-lung technology when evolving techniques in virology allowed the growth of poliovirus and the preparation of vaccine. Any extrapolation of history into the future presupposes an environment of static discovery—an oxymoron.

The essence of this knowledge was the ability to `see all' and to `know all'. Was this not precisely the ability Adam and Eve acquired after eating the forbidden fruit, which grew on the branches of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil'? · Finally, just as Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden, so were the four First Men of the Popol Vuh deprived of their ability to `see far'. Thereafter `their eyes were covered and they could only see what was close ...' Both the Popol Vuh and Genesis therefore tell the story of mankind's fall from grace. In both cases, this state of grace was closely associated with knowledge, and the reader is left in no doubt that the knowledge in question was so remarkable that it conferred godlike powers on those who possessed it. The Bible, adopting a dark and muttering tone of voice, calls it `the knowledge of good and evil' and has nothing further to add. The Popol Vuh is much more informative. It tells us that the knowledge of the First Men consisted of the ability to see `things hidden in the distance', that they were astronomers who `examined the four corners, the four points of the arch of the sky', and that they were geographers who succeeded in measuring `the round face of the earth'. 7 Geography is about maps. In Part I we saw evidence suggesting that the cartographers of an as yet unidentified civilization might have mapped the planet with great thoroughness at an early date. Could the Popol Vuh be transmitting some garbled memory of that same civilization when it speaks nostalgically of the First Men and of the miraculous geographical knowledge they possessed? Geography is about maps, and astronomy is about stars. Very often the two disciplines go hand in hand because stars are essential for navigation on long sea-going voyages of discovery (and long sea-going voyages of discovery are essential for the production of accurate maps). Is it accidental that the First Men of the Popol Vuh were remembered not only for studying `the round face of the earth' but for their contemplation of `the arch of heaven'?

So, to summarise: Science is the search for explanation. Religion is the search for meaning. Meaning is not accidental to the human condition because we are the meaning-seeking animal. To believe on the basis of science that the universe has no meaning is to confuse two disciplines of thought: explanation and interpretation. The search for meaning, though it begins with science, must go beyond it. Science does not yield meanings, nor does it prove the absence of meanings. The meaning of a system lies outside the system. Therefore the meaning of the universe lies outside the universe. The belief in a God who transcends the universe was the discovery of Abrahamic monotheism, which transformed the human condition, endowing it with meaning and thereby rescuing it from tragedy in the name of hope. For if God created the physical universe, then God is free, and if God made us in his image, we are free. If we are free, then history is not a matter of eternal recurrences. Because we can change ourselves, we can change the world. That is the religious basis of hope. There are cultures that do not share these beliefs. They are, ultimately, tragic cultures, for whatever shape they give the powers they name, those powers are fundamentally indifferent to human fate. They may be natural forces. They may be human institutions: the empire, the state, the political system, or the economy. They may be human collectivities: the tribe, the nation, the race. But all end in tragedy because none attaches ultimate significance to the individual as individual. All end by sacrificing the individual, which is why, in the end, such cultures die. There is only one thing capable of defeating tragedy, which is the belief in God who in love sets his image on the human person, thus endowing each of us with non-negotiable, unconditional dignity.

You’ll have stopped making sentences in quarantine, In the special ward set aside for sentence making once the outline is finished, The way you were taught in school. Instead, writing becomes intrinsic to the act of thinking, Completely intertwined with it. You’re also learning to trust the ability to work in your head And learning how your mind works, Which is something you may not have noticed before. We’re always hastening to be done writing, But we’re also hastening to get out of the presence of our thoughts. Everything about thinking makes us nervous. We don’t believe there’s much of value to be found there. We don’t know when we’ll come to the end of our thoughts, But we think it may be soon. Why? Your mind is silent yet filled with voices and uncertainty. The uncertainty you feel is one of the places sentences will come from, And experience will make your uncertainty more certain. Stop fearing what you’ll find as you think. Give yourself over to this experiment. Your intentions will diverge from themselves. Your starting point may lead to places you didn’t imagine, Places that ask you to reconsider your starting point. You may feel yourself clinging to your original intention. Why? Because it came first? Why not follow the crosscurrents of your thinking And see where they lead? I don’t mean follow them blindly. Allow your thinking to adjust your intentions in the light of your discoveries. This may mean relinquishing your original intention If you find a better one as you write. The piece you’re writing is simply the one that happens to get written. If you’d begun another way, made a different turn, even started in a different mood, A different piece would have come into being. The writer’s world is full of parallel universes. You discover, word by word, the one you discover. Ten minutes later—another hour of thought—and you would have found your way into a different universe. The piece is permeable to the world around it. It’s responsive to time itself, to the very hour of its creation. This is an immensely freeing thing to understand. It liberates you from the anxiety of sequence, The fear that there’s only one way through your subject, Only one useful approach. Learn to accept the discontinuity between yourself and what you write, The discontinuity between your will, your intention, your plan And the discoveries you make as you work. Abandon the idea of predetermination, The shaping force of your intention, Until you’ve given it up for good. Bring your intentions, by all means, but accept that the language we use Is a language of accidentals, always skewing away from the course we set. This is something not to mourn but to revel in— Not only for the friction and sideslip inherent in the language But for freeing us from the narrowness of our preconceptions.

Shen Nung was more than just a ruler. To that end, his name’s English translation is “divine farmer.

At the present time... we certainly do not know all the laws of nature, and it is a good bet that most of our current formulations of those laws will be revised in the future. Yet the great majority of scientists believe that a complete and final set of laws governing all physical phenomena exists, and that we are making continual progress toward discovery of those laws.

The order of discovery concerning the materials in the human environment and of the technology that resulted from such discoveries was not haphazard or accidental. The order of discovery followed a logical order and an order that it had to follow. The easier discoveries were made before the harder discoveries; discoveries that were dependent upon prior discoveries being made, were only made after those discoveries; and inventions that were not economic or did not meet human needs were not made until they made economic sense or until a need arose. The course of human social and cultural history is written into the structure of the universe.

in 1591 the Calvinists convicted a distinguished noblewoman, Lady Eufame Macalyene, for the crime of seeking pain relief from Agnes Sampson, her midwife, during her labor with twin sons. Sampson reported the request to the religious authorities, who found that she had violated the doctrine of the primeval curse on woman. She was burned alive on Castle Hill in Edinburgh as punishment.

Next Day Moving from Cheer to Joy, from Joy to All, I take a box And add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game hens. The slacked or shorted, basketed, identical Food-gathering flocks Are selves I overlook. Wisdom, said William James, Is learning what to overlook. And I am wise If that is wisdom. Yet somehow, as I buy All from these shelves And the boy takes it to my station wagon, What I’ve become Troubles me even if I shut my eyes. When I was young and miserable and pretty And poor, I’d wish What all girls wish: to have a husband, A house and children. Now that I’m old, my wish Is womanish: That the boy putting groceries in my car See me. It bewilders me he doesn’t see me. For so many years I was good enough to eat: the world looked at me And its mouth watered. How often they have undressed me, The eyes of strangers! And, holding their flesh within my flesh, their vile Imaginings within my imagining, I too have taken The chance of life. Now the boy pats my dog And we start home. Now I am good. The last mistaken, Ecstatic, accidental bliss, the blind Happiness that, bursting, leaves upon the palm Some soap and water-- It was so long ago, back in some Gay Twenties, Nineties, I don’t know . . . Today I miss My lovely daughter Away at school, my sons away at school, My husband away at work--I wish for them. The dog, the maid, And I go through the sure unvarying days At home in them. As I look at my life, I am afraid Only that it will change, as I am changing: I am afraid, this morning, of my face. It looks at me From the rear-view mirror, with the eyes I hate, The smile I hate. Its plain, lined look Of gray discovery Repeats to me: “You’re old.” That’s all, I’m old. And yet I’m afraid, as I was at the funeral I went to yesterday. My friend’s cold made-up face, granite among its flowers, Her undressed, operated-on, dressed body Were my face and body. As I think of her I hear her telling me How young I seem; I am exceptional; I think of all I have. But really no one is exceptional, No one has anything, I’m anybody, I stand beside my grave Confused with my life, that is commonplace and solitary.

Robert Liston, a famous surgeon, in setting out to best his own speed record for amputation of the leg, accidentally amputated one of his patient’s testicles and two of his assistant’s fingers.

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” ~ William Morris

As he listened about the paint in the tube, Dr. Sheffield wondered if toothpaste could be put in such a tube. At that time, a family had a jar of toothpaste, and, when ready to brush their teeth, each person would moisten the brush bristles, dip the brush into the jar, and remove a small glob of toothpaste. Dr. Sheffield believed this was unsanitary. Dr. Sheffield had his own brand of toothpaste, Créme Dentifrice, so he decided to market it in tubes. People liked the idea, and soon Colgate, a leading national toothpaste brand, was using the packaging technique as well. The first tubes were metal, but, when there was a metal shortage in the 1940s because of World War II, the tubes began to be made with plastic as well, and, in recent days, they are made completely of plastic. Also, caps used to unscrew, but many are now flip-top so that the cap does not roll away. Dentists recommend you use this product three times a day, so you have likely seen this accidental discovery . . . the toothpaste tube.

Even finding that calorie restriction alone extended life was an accidental discovery. In 1933, during the Great Depression, scientist Clive McCay at Cornell University wanted to keep his lab going but didn’t have enough money for food for all the animals. So he made half of them go on a 35 percent calorie restriction diet. The mice that were forced on calorie restriction lived 30 percent longer than the fully fed group.

Perhaps nothing better typifies the strange and often accidental nature of chemical science in its early days than a discovery made by a German named Hennig Brand in 1675. Brand became convinced that gold could somehow be distilled from human urine. (The similarity of color seems to have been a factor in his conclusion.) He assembled fifty buckets of human urine, which he kept for months in his cellar. By various recondite processes, he converted the urine first into a noxious paste and then into a translucent waxy substance. None of it yielded gold, of course, but a strange and interesting thing did happen. After a time, the substance began to glow. Moreover, when exposed to air, it often spontaneously burst into flame. The commercial potential for the stuff-which soon became known as phosphorus, from Greek and Latin roots meaning "light bearing"—was not lost on eager businesspeople, but the difficulties of manufacture made it too costly to exploit. An ounce of phosphorus retailed for six guineas—perhaps five hundred dollars in todays money-or more than gold. At first soldiers were called on to provide the raw material, but such an arrangement was hardly conducive to industrial-scale production. In the 1750s a Swedish chemist named Karl (or Carl) Scheele devised a way to manufacture phosphorus in bulk without the slop or smell of urine. It was largely because of this mastery of phosphorus that Sweden became, and remains, a leading producer of matches.

Since scientists have no answer to dark matter (except dark matter filament), the most logical explanation is that it is invisible. Some questions remain: 1. Can matter be invisible (or imperceptible by our senses and instruments)? 2. Even if matter could be theoretically invisible, is it possible that such a vast amount of matter, like dark matter, would escape all our knowledge and existing laws of physics and be unidentified until recently but wholly invisible and beyond our reach? 3. If dark matter is imperceptible, what makes it imperceptible? 4. Is it potentially perceptible but not perceptible to us as human beings? 5. Is there anything that would still avoid perception even if we possessed the absolute perceptive ability or technology with these abilities? 6. Or, is dark matter our way of explaining the unexplainable and offering a linguistic form to unknown phenomena? 7. Or, is it our inability to go beyond the spectrum, outside the existing frames, and try to decipher the unknown beyond the known frame of reality or what we see and understand as reality and the Universe? The answer to the first question is known; even atoms are invisible not only to the eyes but to microscopes. It is, therefore, theoretically possible that matter can be hidden and imperceptible. Still, it is hard to imagine that vast amounts of the mass of the Universe would stay unaccounted for within the realm of already advanced understanding of the laws of physics, instruments, and experiments. It would be possible to prove mathematically, based on what we already know about the Universe, the mass, the dispersion of energy and mass, and by these comparisons to conclude, without the CERN accelerator, that this is, most likely, impossible. This was a short answer to the second question. The third question is important because it would lead scientists in the right direction by avoiding the possible net of perplexed ideas. If we have already established that something exists, it would be better to define it as precisely as possible to avoid guessing only. In addition, how do we guess? We do not know anything about its nature, origin, or how it came into existence except that we came to this discovery almost accidentally by pure and relatively simple measurements and experiments. But what about us? How do we think? What methods do we use in experiments and the way we think? The answer to these questions could lead to better discoveries than only focusing on something we do not know and, even worse if we do not know where to look for it. Based on an accidental discovery, it is a good start to conclude that there is more mass in the Universe than can be detected. Still, it would be better and more productive to go beyond the Universe as we see it, beyond our existing knowledge and perception, not toward the stars we already know but toward another bottomless sky of darkness and the unknown. Although light is the source of life, darkness is also the source of light and life. Maybe the brightest “star” sleeps in the darkness and feeds the world from darkness. Is there only one Universe? If we start from the premise of the Big Bang theory, it would be logical to ask why there is only one Big Bang. It is easy to conclude that if there is a Big Bang at one point in “space” (nothingness), there can be another one at another “point,” past or future, although this may sound strange.

To this day, we have not sorted out how to think of dinosaurs. Time drains many discoveries and inventions of their wonder. Who today marvels at a lightbulb? But as the success of the Jurassic Park franchise demonstrates, dinosaurs retain their power to frighten and to fascinate.

The dinosaur discoveries came out of nowhere, like the asteroid, and the public in the nineteenth century was scarcely better prepared than the dinosaurs had been. It was not just that such things as monstrous skeletons were contrary to experience. The shock was that they were contrary to reason. Such things could not be, because they had no place in a world that was, everyone knew, under divine supervision. Why would God have indulged in such follies?

In 1802 no one had ever heard of dinosaurs. These were, as far as anyone knew, the first dinosaur tracks ever found. That find was as strange and unexpected as any discovery in human history. A series of similar discoveries followed, in rapid succession and across the globe. The finds were giant bones and enormous footprints in stone and, soon, immense skeletons.

The dinosaur discoveries came in a rush in the early 1800s, partly because the Industrial Revolution brought a frenzy of digging of all sorts. As armies of workmen tore up the ground with picks and shovels, their canals and mines and tunnels and quarries offered never-before-seen peeks beneath Earth’s surface.

If you plan to be happy, you will find at least one reason to be happy. Real happiness is never accidental. Discover happiness on your terms.

The discovery of the power of injected water was luck; understanding and exploiting it was anything but. Newcomen and Calley replaced18 the accidental hole in the cylinder with an injection valve, and, ingeniously, attached it to the piston itself.

Umm... You're not a serial killer or something, are you?

The imperial Prisoner of the United States has a lot less freedom than meaningless old me.

A large percentage of scientific breakthroughs happened by accident: X-rays, penicillin, Velcro, and plastic—all accidental discoveries. Even Viagra. Zach could imagine that conversation: “Gentlemen, check out this result …

Likely the most notable chance breakthrough in medicine was the accidental discovery of penicillin, which opened up the antibiotic revolution and has since saved perhaps as many as 200 million lives.[102]

We are not aware of who we are. We are not aware of the inner being, the authentic self, the source from which we come. We are not aware why we have come here. We are not aware of what our purpose is. There must be come purpose, some meaning and there must be some message to be delivered. There must be some work to be done, and something has to happen through us. Nobody is here accidental and everybody is on a mission, which we are unaware of. We are not aware of who we are, and we are not aware of why we are here, but that does not make any difference to the truth. Whether the truth is known or not, it still remains the truth. Not knowing it makes no difference. Everybody is here to fulfill a certain purpose, a certain meaning. Unless you have not done that for which you have come here, you will not feel a deep sense of joy and meaning. That is the basic cause why there is so much misery. The basic cause of misery is that we are doing something for which we are not meant. Everybody is trying to be somebody else. You can never be somebody else, you can only be your own self. Without meditation you will never know who you really are, and what your purpose here is. With meditation you will become more silent, joyful and a clarity will arise. You can see clearly what your purpose here is. You can see clearly what will create a deep sense of joy and meaning in you. Then your whole life goes through a radical change. Then you start doing that for which you are meant. Meditation is the method of discovery of who you really are, your purpose, your goal, your meaning, and once you start doing it, your life will become a joy.

His Aristotelian colleagues scoffed. How could one predicate the existence of something no one had ever seen, especially an inhabited landmass; and when everyone knew the Indian Ocean ended at the western shores of India? So Eratosthenes’s stunning thesis of a possible New World located between Europe and Asia never caught on, even after the Romans discovered there was indeed an ocean on the far side of India. His idea of a western continent faded from the science books. It would take Columbus’s accidental discovery in 1492 to finally prove that the Aristotelians at Alexandria had been wrong and Eratosthenes right all along.

Although the role of serendipity is familiar, what’s not so well appreciated is how different serendipity is from luck. Serendipity is not just an apparent aptitude for making fortunate discoveries accidentally, as my dictionary defines it. Serendipitous discoveries are always made by people in a particular frame of mind, people who are focused and alert because they’re searching for something. They just happen to find something else.

The wolf stalks him anyway, this accidental discovery, this pale-eyed, scar-faced child who was not a child, two thousand years gone by when the wolf loved him.

Being a CEO is lonely. It’s important to have relationships with other CEOs you can call when everything is melting down (one of the important accidental discoveries of YC was a way for founders to have peers.)

Many of the greatest discoveries of our time are due to chance or serendipity. They were discovered accidentally when something very different was being attempted.

Many discoveries are accidental!

Victoria had to bite her lip and curl her fingers into her palms to keep from unbuttoning his pants and accidentally-on-purpose tripping and landing on his penis.

The greatest obstacle to knowledge is the illusion of knowledge. —Daniel Boorstin,

The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. —Henri-Louis Bergson,

The biotech company seemed to follow implicitly, though not explicitly, Louis Pasteur’s adage about creating luck by sheer exposure. “Luck favors the prepared,” Pasteur said, and, like all great discoverers, he knew something about accidental discoveries. The best way to get maximal exposure is to keep researching. Collect opportunities—on that, later.

Actually our ignorance and carelessness are more deliberate than accidental; we are entering Glen Canyon without having learned much about it beforehand because we wish to see it as Powell and his party had seen it, not knowing what to expect, making anew the discoveries of others. If the first rapids are a surprise to us it is simply because we had never inquired if there were any on this stretch of the river.

The popsicle was accidentally invented by an 11-year-old in 1905. He mixed sugary soda powder with water and left it out overnight. It was a cold evening, so the mixture froze. He woke up to the discovery and devoured the icy treat by licking it off the wooden stirrer.

The brightest moments of human discovery are those unplanned and random instants when you thumb through a strange book in a foreign library or talk auto maintenance with a neuroanatomist. We need our searches to include cross-wiring and dumb accidents, too, not just algorithmic surety. And besides the need for accidental connections, there’s the fact that some things, clearly, are beyond the wisdom of crowds—sometimes speed and volume should bend to make way for theory and meaning. Sometimes we do still need to quiet down the rancor of mass opinion and ask a few select voices to speak up. And doing so in past generations has never been such a problem as it is for us. They never dealt with such a glut of information or such a horde of folk eager to misrepresent it.

Once in a while, one will stumble upon the truth, but most of us manage to pick ourselves up and hurry along as if nothing had happened.

In 1937, Szent-Györgyi was notified that he was the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. The prize committee had argued long and acrimoniously about selecting Szent-Györgyi, so much so that after the final meeting, when the chairman, Hans Christian Jacobaus, came out to make the announcement, he fell dead on the spot with a heart attack. The award carried $40,000 and a gold medal. In Szent-Györgyi’s own words: “The Nobel Prize was the only big lump sum of money I have ever seen, I had to do something with it. The easiest way to drop this hot potato was to invest it. Since I knew World War II was coming, I was afraid that if I bought shares that would rise in war, I would wish for the war. So I asked my broker to buy shares that would go down in the event of war. I lost money but I saved my soul.

But with their backs against the wall, the Beatles produced an album far ahead of anything they’d done before. Since these guys were riding new levels of musical fluidity and inspiration, firing on so many more cylinders than anybody else had, they stumbled onto discoveries that changed the way music has been made ever since. It was an accidental masterpiece—but one that stunned them into realizing how far they could go. After that, they went full-time into the masterpiece-making business. Yet unlike some of their later artistic statements, this one was fun to make, and it shows. It’s where the Beatles became the Beatles. For artists like Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye, it was a model of artistic independence. Brian Wilson was still writing surf hits until he heard this record. The morning after his first listen, he sat at the piano and wrote “God Only Knows.” As he said, “We prayed for an album that would be a rival to Rubber Soul.

Samuel Clemens, who used the celebrated pen name Mark Twain and was the author of such nineteenth-century classics as Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, had many telepathic experiences. He dubbed them “mental telegraphy” because the telegraph was the fanciest long-distance communication technology in his day. Twain was concerned about his reputation as a serious author if he reported his experiences, so for years he kept quietly adding his experiences to an unpublished manuscript. Finally, after British scientists began to show serious interest in this topic in 1882 with the formation of the Society for Psychical Research, Twain decided to publish an article in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine in 1891. It began: Note to the Editor.—By glancing over the enclosed bundle of rusty old manuscript, you will perceive that I once made a great discovery: the discovery that certain sorts of thing which, from the beginning of the world, had always been regarded as merely “curious coincidences”—that is to say, accidents—were no more accidental than is the sending and receiving of a telegram an accident. I made this discovery sixteen or seventeen years ago, and gave it a name—“Mental Telegraphy.” It is the same thing around the outer edges of which the Psychical Society of England began to group (and play with) four or five years ago, and which they named “Telepathy.” Within the last two or three years they have penetrated toward the heart of the matter, however, and have found out that mind can act upon mind in a quite detailed and elaborate way over vast stretches of land and water. And they have succeeded in doing, by their great credit and influence, what I could never have done—they have convinced the world that mental telegraphy is not a jest, but a fact, and that it is a thing not rare, but exceedingly common. They have done our age a service—and a very great service, I think.238

A long time ago, in a small village, there lived a wise old monk named Tenzen. One day his neighbors discovered that their sixteen-year-old daughter was pregnant. Furious, the parents confronted her and demanded to know the name of the baby’s father. Through tears she confessed, “It was the Zen master, Tenzen.” The parents went to Tenzen and angrily accused him of betraying their trust. “How could you do this?” they cried out. “You are going to raise this child!” The great sage listened attentively, replying with no emotion. “Is that so?” When the baby was born, they brought the infant to the master’s door and said, “This baby is now your responsibility.” Taking the child in his arms, he replied, “Is that so?” He then compassionately cared for the newborn. As word of the teacher’s misdeeds spread throughout the countryside, he lost both his reputation and his followers. This meant nothing to him as he continued to care for the child with great love. A year later, feeling terrible about what she had done, the young mother confessed to her parents that Tenzen was not the father. Instead, it was the young man in the butcher shop whom they had forbidden her to see. Horrified and embarrassed, the parents returned to the master’s compound to seek forgiveness. “We are so sorry,” they said. “We have just learned you are not the baby’s father.” “Is that so?” “With your blessing, we would like our baby back.” “Is that so?” And with that the master gently returned the child to the parents.

People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have, knowing that it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” “Who wrote this?” “Mother Teresa.

types of errors is the most rational thing to do, when the errors are of little cost, as they lead to discoveries. For instance, most medical “discoveries” are accidental to something else. An error-free world would have no penicillin, no chemotherapy…almost no drugs, and most probably no humans.

When he was twenty-four, André floated down to Saigon and returned with a wife standing upon his prow. Eugenia was the eldest child of Pierre Cazeau, the stately, arrogant owner of the Hôtel Continental, on rue Catinat. She was also deaf. Her tutors had spent the first thirteen years of her life attempting to teach her how to speak like a hearing person, as was dictated by the popular pedagogy of the time. Her tongue was pressed, her cheeks prodded, countless odd intonations were coaxed forth from her lips. Cumbersome hearing horns were thrust into her ears, spiraling upward like ibex horns. It was a torture she finally rejected for the revolutionary freedom of sign, which she taught herself from an eighteenth-century dictionary by Charles-Michel de l’Épée that she had stumbled upon accidentally on the shelf of a Saigon barbershop.1 Based on the grammatical rules of spoken language, L’Épée’s Methodical Sign System was unwieldy and overly complex: many words, instead of having a sign on their own, were composed of a combination of signs. “Satisfy” was formed by joining the signs for “make” and “enough.” “Intelligence” was formed by pairing “read” with “inside.” And “to believe” was made by combining “feel,” “know,” “say,” “not see,” plus another sign to denote its verbiage. Though his intentions may have been noble, L’Epée’s system was inoperable in reality, and so Eugenia modified and shortened the language. In her hands, “belief” was simplified into “feel no see.” Verbs, nouns, and possession were implied by context. 1 “So unlikely as to approach an impossibility,” writes Røed-Larsen of this book’s discovery, in Spesielle ParN33tikler (597). One could not quite call her beautiful, but the enforced oral purgatory of her youth had left her with an understanding of life’s inherent inclination to punish those who least deserve it. Her black humor in the face of great pain perfectly balanced her new husband’s workmanlike nature. She had jumped at the opportunity to abandon the Saigon society that had silently humiliated her, gladly accepting the trials of life on a backwater, albeit thriving, plantation. Her family’s resistance to sending their eldest child into the great unknowable cauldron of the jungle was only halfhearted—they were in fact grateful to be unburdened of the obstacle that had kept them from marrying off their two youngest (and much more desirable) daughters. André painstakingly mastered Eugenia’s language. Together, they communed via a fluttering dance of fingertips to palms, and their dinners on the Fig. 4.2. L’Épée’s Methodical Sign System From de l’Épée, C.-M. (1776), Institution des sourds et muets: par la voie des signes méthodiques, as cited in Tofte-Jebsen, B., Jeg er Raksmey, p. 61 veranda were thus rich, wordless affairs, confluences of gestures beneath the ceiling fan, the silence broken only by the clink of a soup spoon, the rustle of a servant clearing the table, or the occasional shapeless moan that accentuated certain of her sentences, a relic from her years of being forced to speak aloud.