Eureka Quotes

The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds the most discoveries, is not "Eureka!" (I found it!) but 'That's funny...

We should never despair. Beyond, there is hope! In the meantime, there is resilience. ("Waiting for Eureka")

Eureka" can be an answer to a question we have never asked. It can be the articulation of a sudden and unforeseen idea or the expression of a magic moment that throws us into a new world. It acts like a radiant sunbeam that comes out of the blue and illuminates a dim past, opening a new, dynamic horizon. It may even be a trivial but lucky encounter with new friends, who let us be what we are in our imagination: original and undifferentiated. (“Waiting for Eureka” )

If we find ourselves missing the art of living, we must suffer from a lack of fulfillment, joy, and meaning in life. By opening the closets of our minds, igniting the wicks of our curiosity, and unlocking the abandoned doors to our dormant passion, we revive an inspired and creative way of life. ("Waiting for Eureka")

You keep waiting for the moral of your life to become obvious, but it never does. Work, work, work: No moral. No plot. No eureka! Just production schedules and days. You might as well be living inside a photocopier. Your lives are all they're ever going to be.

It's a weird feeling, scientific breakthroughs. There's no Eureka moment. Just a slow, steady progression toward a goal. But man, when you get to that goal it feels good.

If we challenge the inertia of our awareness and look at the appealing beauty around us, we can meet the core of our deeper selves. When we venture to open our eyes to the little wonders that arise from innocent daily incidents, we can allow ourselves to reconnect, spurn pressure, step out of our comfort retreat, and spend quality time with our friends without any sense of guilt of wasting time. ("Waiting for Eureka")

However, the mind has an amazing ability to continue worrying away at a problem all on its own, so that when the "Eureka!" comes it is as mysterious as if it were God speaking.

All stories are love stories.

Marijuana enhances our mind in a way that enables us to take a different perspective from 'high up', to see and evaluate our own lives and the lives of others in a privileged way. Maybe this euphoric and elevating feeling of the ability to step outside the box and to look at life’s patterns from this high perspective is the inspiration behind the slang term “high” itself.

No thinking being lives who, at some luminous point of his life of thought, has not felt himself lost amid the surges of futile efforts at understanding, or believing, that anything exists greater than his own soul.

Scientists may have sophisticated laboratories, But never forget 'eureka' was inspired in a bathtub.

This is how great intellectual breakthroughs usually happen in practice. It is rarely the isolated genius having a eureka moment alone in the lab. Nor is it merely a question of building on precedent, of standing on the shoulders of giants, in Newton's famous phrase. Great breakthroughs are closer to what happens in a flood plain: a dozen separate tributaries converge, and the rising waters lift the genius high enough that he or she can see around the conceptual obstructions of the age.

I could see why Archimedes got all excited. There was nothing finer than the feeling that came rushing through you when it clicked and you suddenly understood something that had puzzled you. It made you think it just might be possible to get a handle on this old world after all.

Miracles do not belong to religions. Miracles belong to the desperate, which is why every religion, every philosophy, and most importantly, every fairy tale always has a moment of salvation, a eureka, an enlightenment. We are all chasing and chasing tails, running and running in circles, until a wolf or the witch or the stepmother jumps out and trips us, and we fall flat, splat, and we lie bare and bleeding and breathless and finally, finally look and see whatever it is---salvation or eureka or enlightenment or a hunter or prince or a glass slipper---in front of us. And that's what miracles are. Not solutions, but catalysts. Not answers, but chances.

It is not easy to convey, unless one has experienced it, the dramatic feeling of sudden enlightenment that floods the mind when the right idea finally clicks into place. One immediately sees how many previously puzzling facts are neatly explained by the new hypothesis. One could kick oneself for not having the idea earlier, it now seems so obvious. Yet before, everything was in a fog.

The greatest eureka moment is discovering yourself

Eureka .. Eureka!

Each happy chemical triggers a different good feeling. Dopamine produces the joy of finding what you seek– the “Eureka! I got it!” feeling. Endorphin produces the oblivion that masks pain– often called “euphoria.” Oxytocin produces the feeling of being safe with others– now called “bonding.” And serotonin produces the feeling of being respected by others–“pride.

If God wants something from me, he would tell me. He wouldn't leave someone else to do this, as if an infinite being were short on time. And he would certainly not leave fallible, sinful humans to deliver an endless plethora of confused and contradictory messages. God would deliver the message himself, directly, to each and every one of us, and with such clarity as the most brilliant being in the universe could accomplish. We would all hear him out and shout "Eureka!" So obvious and well-demonstrated would his message be. It would be spoken to each of us in exactly those terms we would understand. And we would all agree on what that message was.

The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not ‘Eureka!’ but ‘That’s funny.

We like to think of innovation as striking us in a stunning eureka moment, where you all at once change the way people see the world, leaping far ahead of our current understanding. I’m arguing that in reality, innovation is more systematic.

and honesty is the hardest part yeah honesty is the highest art and honestly i myself just started and eureka i’m less broken-hearted

But those stories inspire observations and experiments that do help us sort out what’s going on. The science fiction novelist Isaac Asimov reportedly once said, “The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not ‘Eureka!’ but ‘That’s funny.

It always happened like this: he would look and look for the keys to Satan’s Hearse and then finally he’d just give up and say, “Fine. I’ll take the fugging bus,” and on his way out the door, he’d see the keys. Keys show up when you reconcile yourself to the bus; Katherines appear when you start to disbelieve the world contains another Katherine; and, sure enough, the Eureka moment arrived just as he began to accept it would never come.

A man in love once never is out of love again

y ocurrió que casi al terminar el cigarrillo el hombre se golpeó la frente dijo carajo que es el equivalente nacional de eureka y se detuvo

the human mind works in three elementary phases: saturate, incubate, and illuminate. Time allows us to saturate our mind with context, so we can incubate and spark the eureka moments of illumination that connect the dots, snap together patterns, and discover the options that allow us to find our paths.

This is the Rule of Creative Theft, which says greatness doesn’t come from a single great idea or eureka moment. It comes from borrowing other people’s work and building on it. We steal our way to greatness.

So three Bagmen and a slaver go into a bar . . .” Finn began as the wails grew closer. Selena whipped her head around, hissing, “Are you serious, Magician? They’re almost here.” “What?” Finn whispered. “Just because we’re about to be swarmed by bloodthirsty zombies doesn’t mean we can’t have a laugh.” Matthew made a eureka! hand gesture. “Zomedy!” “Damn straight, Matto.

Keys show up when you reconcile yourself to the bus; Katherines appear when you start to disbelieve the world contains another Katherine; and, sure enough, the Eureka moment arrived just as he began to accept it would never come.

The human route to sympathy or empathy is a clumsy one but it's all we've got. To understand the consequences of our actions we must exercise our imaginations.

Of course. I should have realized. You’re so brave, Eureka. How do you handle it?” “I don’t handle it, that’s how.

If Arkansas is, indeed, one big family, Eureka Springs remains its eccentric uncle.

To paraphrase a line attributed to Isaac Asimov, great discoveries often begin not with “Eureka!” but with “That’s funny . . .

He told Eureka the only heat to use when you loved a sauce is the softest simmer.

The technical definition of heuristic is a simple procedure that helps find adequate, though often imperfect, answers to difficult questions. The word comes from the same root as eureka.

in general, from the violation of a few simple laws of humanity arises the wretchedness of mankind - that as a species we have in our possession the as yet unwroght elements of content - and that, even now, in the present darkness and madness of all thought on the great question of social condition, it is not impossible that man, the individual, under certain unusual and highly fortuitous conditions, my be happy

The view is endlessly fulfilling. It is like the answer to a lifetime of questions and vague cravings.

Not belonging is the greatest gift. Always remember that.

Suffering is wisdom’s schoolteacher

Sometimes when you try not to repeat your mistakes, you forget that the original mistakes are still unfolding

It wasn’t a “Eureka!” kind of moment—it was the slow realization that the parts of me that had been empty were starting to fill up again. Yet, as gradual as this all was, there was one surreal moment that crystallized it for me—one moment where I suddenly understood what Idol meant to people and what it was doing for me.

I wanna have a Eureka moment,” he said, the way another kid might have expressed longing for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek and smiled, her face so close to his that he could smell coffee and makeup. “Of course, Colin baby. Of course you will.” But mothers lie. It’s in the job description.

Eureka!"s like the one Archimedes had when he stepped in a bathtub and suddenly realized the answer to the problem of testing metals' density are few and far between, and mostly it's just trying and failing and trying something else, feeding in data and eliminating variables and staring at the results, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

The teacher is a catalyst to convert information from a high energy state (list of facts) to a low energy state (visual concept associated with known concepts).

All stories are love stories

who can know the ending until the last word has been written? Everything might change with the last word.

She could argue with the wall in China and win.

I wouldn’t know what to do if I weren’t next to you. That’s who I am.” “You can’t rely on someone else to define you. Especially not me.

Don’t turn your back on what you love because you’re scared

Many important discoveries contained a “Eureka moment.

That is truly one of the rudest things I’ve ever heard, but eureka! What rich fertilizer! Thank you! God bless you.

Eureka! My reflection was hers, I have found her, she was mine, And I was hers, And I was hers.

It is a telling commentary on how authors control what they write, but not what is read. Poe regarded his tales of ratiocination as something of a distraction; his great loves were poetry and his “prose poem,” Eureka. “The Raven” was indeed Poe’s most famous work during his lifetime, and time has not lessened its charms—but as art it is distinctly backward-looking.

In the early summer of 1846 he moved his family to a cottage in Fordham, which was then far out in the country. He was ill and Virginia was dying, so that he was in no condition to do much work. As a result, their meagre income vanished; when winter game they even lacked money to buy fuel. A friend who visited the cottage wrote a description of Virginia's plight: There was no clothing on the bed... but a snow white spread and sheets. The weather was cold, and the sick lady had the dreadful chills that accompany the hectic fever of consumption. She lay on the straw bed, wrapped in her husband's great-coat, with a large tortoise-shell cat on her bosom. The wonderful cat seemed conscious of her great usefulness. The coat and the cat were the sufferer's only means of warmth... A public appeal for funds was made in the newspapers -- an act which Poe, of course, resented. But Virginia was beyond all human aid. She died on January 30, 1847, and her death marked the end of the sanest period in her husband's life. He plunged into the writing of a book-length mystical and pseudo-scientific work entitled Eureka, in which he set forth his theories of the universe. He intended it as a prose poem, and as such is should be judged, rather than as a scientific explanation of matters beyond it's author's ken.

In the folklore of science, there is the often-told story of the moment of discovery: the quickening of the pulse, the spectral luminosity of ordinary facts, the overheated, standstill second when observations crystallize and fall together into patterns, like pieces of a kaleidoscope. The apple drops from the tree. The man jumps up from a bathtub; the slippery equation balances itself. But there is another moment of discovery—its antithesis—that is rarely recorded: the discovery of failure. It is a moment that a scientist often encounters alone. A patient’s CT scan shows a relapsed lymphoma. A cell once killed by a drug begins to grow back. A child returns to the NCI with a headache.

Walking through the West Village one night, he had a eureka moment: He would make a gay bar, but for straight people. It was a brilliant idea. Soon after, he opened the first T.G.I. Friday's on the Upper East Side.

Practicaba todos los deportes de salón Desde la pederastia combinada hasta la pistola Eureka. Pero le acusaron de no ser un hombre. Por eso, para probar lo contrario, tuvo un hijo con un perro. ¡Ah! ¡Ah! ¡A que les molesta!

Wonder generates enthusiasm, which is the highest state of character. It’s what makes mere curiosity about nature grow into an all-consuming passion. The history of science is full of examples of enthusiasm. Every schoolchild knows the story of Archimedes, who stepped into his bath and realized that water displacement could be used to measure the volume of any object; he then took off running through the streets like a madman, yelling, “Eureka! I’ve found it!

We like to think of innovation as striking us in a stunning eureka moment, where you all at once change the way people see the world, leaping far ahead of our current understanding. I’m arguing that in reality, innovation is more systematic. We grind away to expand the cutting edge, opening up new problems in the adjacent possible to tackle and therefore expand the cutting edge some more, opening up more new problems, and so on. “The truth,” Johnson explains, “is that technological (and scientific) advances rarely break out of the adjacent possible.

But the price of flexibility, of being released from the tyranny of rigid, inbuilt patterns of behaviour, is that ‘happiness’, in the sense of perfect adaptation to the environment or complete fulfilment of needs, is only briefly experienced. ‘Call no man happy till he dies,’ said Solon. When individuals fall in love, or cry ‘Eureka’ at making a new discovery, or have the kind of transcendental emotion described by Wordsworth as being ‘surprised by joy’, they feel blissfully at one with the universe: but, as everyone knows, such experiences are transient.

Insight, then. Wisdom. The quest for knowledge, the derivation of theorems, science and technology and all those exclusively human pursuits that must surely rest on a conscious foundation. Maybe that's what sentience would be for— if scientific breakthroughs didn't spring fully-formed from the subconscious mind, manifest themselves in dreams, as full-blown insights after a deep night's sleep. It's the most basic rule of the stymied researcher: stop thinking about the problem. Do something else. It will come to you if you just stop being conscious of it... Don't even try to talk about the learning curve. Don't bother citing the months of deliberate practice that precede the unconscious performance, or the years of study and experiment leading up to the gift-wrapped Eureka moment. So what if your lessons are all learned consciously? Do you think that proves there's no other way? Heuristic software's been learning from experience for over a hundred years. Machines master chess, cars learn to drive themselves, statistical programs face problems and design the experiments to solve them and you think that the only path to learning leads through sentience? You're Stone-age nomads, eking out some marginal existence on the veldt—denying even the possibility of agriculture, because hunting and gathering was good enough for your parents. Do you want to know what consciousness is for? Do you want to know the only real purpose it serves? Training wheels. You can't see both aspects of the Necker Cube at once, so it lets you focus on one and dismiss the other. That's a pretty half-assed way to parse reality. You're always better off looking at more than one side of anything. Go on, try. Defocus. It's the next logical step.

Occasionally the poster pictures a pair of cyclists; and then one grasps the fact how much superior for purposes of flirtation is the modern bicycle to the old-fashioned parlour or the played-out garden gate. He and she mount their bicycles, being careful, of course, that such are of the right make. After that they have nothing to think about but the old sweet tale. Down shady lanes, through busy towns on market days, merrily roll the wheels of the “Bermondsey Company’s Bottom Bracket Britain’s Best,” or of the “Camberwell Company’s Jointless Eureka.” They need no pedalling; they require no guiding. Give them their heads, and tell them what time you want to get home, and that is all they ask. While Edwin leans from his saddle to whisper the dear old nothings in Angelina’s ear, while Angelina’s face, to hide its blushes, is turned towards the horizon at the back, the magic bicycles pursue their even course.

That’s the eureka moment, when suddenly you know something. Your hands sweat, you get into all kinds of symptoms of tremendous excitement. First of all, it’s fear. Is it right? And it’s incredible humor. ‘How could it be any other way? It had to be that way! How could we have been so stupid, not to see this?

-Me llamo Ander. Le tendió la mano educadamente, como si hiciera un momento no le hubiera secado el ojo con toda confianza, como si no acabara de hacer la cosa mas extraña y sexy que nadie hubiera echo jamas. -Eureka. Le estrechó la mano. ¿Le sudaba la palma o era la de él? -¿De dónde sale un nombre como ese?

En la cabecera se leía en letras lilas: <>. Era latín. Eureka lo había memorizado de la camiseta de la Sorbona con la que dormía casi todas las noches. Diana le había comprado aquella camiseta en París. Tenía escrito el lema de la ciudad y también el de su madre. <> A Eureka le dio un vuelco el corazón ante la cruel ironía.

In Minneapolis, tires were slashed and windows smashed. A high school student getting off a bus was hit in the face and told to “go back to China.” A woman was kicked in the thighs, face, and kidneys, and her purse, which contained the family’s entire savings of $400, was stolen; afterwards, she forbade her children to play outdoors, and her husband, who had once commanded a fifty-man unit in the Armée Clandestine, stayed home to guard the family’s belongings. In Providence, children walking home from school were beaten. In Missoula, teenagers were stoned. In Milwaukee, garden plots were vandalized and a car was set on fire. In Eureka, California, two burning crosses were placed on a family’s front lawn. In a random act of violence near Springfield, Illinois, a twelve-year-old boy was shot and killed by three men who forced his family’s car off Interstate 55 and demanded money. His father told a reporter, “In a war, you know who your enemies are. Here, you don’t know if the person walking up to you will hurt you.

«No conocemos nada acerca de la naturaleza o de la esencia de Dios; para saber qué es, se necesita ser Dios mismo.»

Mi proposición general es la siguiente: En la unidad original de la primera cosa se halla la causa secundaria de todas las cosas, junto con el germen de su aniquilación inevitable.

Sí, Kepler fue esencialmente un teórico; pero este título, ahora tan sagrado, era en aquellos antiguos tiempos un epíteto de soberano desprecio.

«La inteligencia admite la idea de espacio ilimitado a causa de la mayor imposibilidad para sostener la de espacio limitado.»

Por mi lado no tengo paciencia para fantasías tan tímidas, tan ociosas y tan torpes a un tiempo. Son propias de una absoluta cobardía de pensamiento.

Una cosa es consistente en razón de su verdad; una verdad lo es en razón de su consistencia. Una perfecta consistencia, repito, no puede ser sino una absoluta verdad.

Conjeturando con Platón de vez en cuando, empleamos mejor el tiempo que escuchando una demostración de Alcmeón.

He used to have a hellish wife named Rita, but she’d died about a decade ago and Big Jean didn’t get around too well on his own. When Hurricane Rita bulldozed the bayou, Big Jean’s house was hit hard. Eureka had heard his hoarse voice say, twenty times, “The only thing meaner than the first Rita was the second Rita. One stayed in my house, the other tore it down.

What have you loved? What stands out in your mind as can’t miss Life Attractions?” “I’m not sure. When people make those bucket lists online, they focus on big, flashy things, like going to the top of the Eiffel Tower or swimming with dolphins or whatever. They’re doing those for Instagram, though, or because they think it’s what they’re supposed to want. I guess they do sound impressive when you say them out loud to other people. But everything I remember as being the best moments of my life has been so…small. Like…running through the sprinklers with my best friend on summer break, getting grass stuck all over my wet feet. The first time my baby sister smiled at a silly face I made. My first real Eureka moment in the biochem lab.

Avalokiteśvara’s mantra is: Gate, gate, pāragate, pārasaṃgate, bodhi svāhā. Gate means gone: gone from suffering to the liberation from suffering. Gone from forgetfulness to mindfulness. Gone from duality to ​nonduality. Gate, gate means gone, gone. Pāragate means gone all the way to the other shore. So this mantra is said in a very strong way. Gone, gone, gone all the way over. In Pārasaṃgate, saṃ means everyone, the sangha, the entire community of beings. Everyone gone over to the other shore. Bodhi is the light inside, enlightenment, or awakening. You see, and the vision of reality liberates you. Svāhā is a cry of joy and triumph, like “Eureka!” or “Hallelujah!” “Gone, gone, gone all the way over, everyone gone to the other shore, enlightenment, svāhā!

En la cabecera se leía en letras lilas: "Fluctuat nec mergitur". Era latín. Eureka lo había memorizado de la camiseta de la Sorbona con la que dormía casi todas las noches. Diana le había comprado aquella camiseta en París. Tenía escrito el lema de la ciudad y también el de su madre. "Batida por las olas, pero no hundida." A Eureka le dio un vuelco el corazón ante la cruel ironía.

But inspiration can strike in many different ways ... When the philosopher Archimedes stepped into his bath and sloshed water over the sides, the people downstairs were inspired to find a new flat.

There is a myth about how something new comes to be. Geniuses have dramatic moments of insight where great things and thoughts are born whole. Poems are written in dreams. Symphonies are composed complete. Science is accomplished with eureka shrieks. Businesses are built by magic touch. Something is not, then is. We do not see the road from nothing to new, and maybe we do not want to. Artistry must be misty magic, not sweat and grind. It dulls the luster to think that every elegant equation, beautiful painting, and brilliant machine is born of effort and error, the progeny of false starts and failures, and that each maker is as flawed, small, and mortal as the rest of us. It is seductive to conclude that great innovation is delivered to us by miracle via genius. And so the myth.

This was a eureka moment: I realized that the tasks we had chosen for study were exceptionally effortful. An image came to mind: mental life—today I would speak of the life of System 2—is normally conducted at the pace of a comfortable walk, sometimes interrupted by episodes of jogging and on rare occasions by a frantic sprint. The Add-1 and Add-3 exercises are sprints, and casual chatting is a stroll.

Finché l’umanità continuerà a brancolare nella sua nebbia millenaria di superstizioni e di venerande sentenze, finché sarà troppo ignorante per sviluppare le sue proprie energie, non sarà nemmeno capace di sviluppare le energie della natura che le vengono svelate. Che scopo si prefigge il vostro lavoro? Io credo che la scienza possa proporsi altro scopo che quello di alleviare la fatica dell’esistenza umana. Se gli uomini di scienza non reagiscono all’intimidazione dei potenti egoisti e si limitano ad accumulare sapere per sapere, la scienza può rimanere fiaccata per sempre, ed ogni nuova macchina non sarà fonte che di nuovi triboli per l’uomo. E quando, coll’andar del tempo, avrete scoperto tutto lo scopribile, il vostro progresso non sarà che un progressivo allontanamento dall’umanità. Tra voi e l’umanità può scavarsi un abisso così grande, che ad ogni vostro eureka rischierebbe di rispondere un grido di dolore universale…

Real Hope stares us in the face, but we do not see him. Instead, we dig into the mound of human ideas to extract a tiny shard of insight. We tell ourselves that we have finally found the key, the thing that will make a difference. We act on the insight and embrace the delusion of lasting personal change. But before long, disappointment returns. The change was temporary and cosmetic, failing to penetrate the heart of the problem. So, we go back to the mound again, determined this time to dig in the right place. Eureka! We find another shard of insight, seemingly more profound than before. We take it home, study it, and put it into practice. But we always end up in the same place. The good news confronts us with the reality that heart-changing help will never be found in the mound. It will only be found in the Man, Christ Jesus. We must not offer people a system of redemption, a set of insights and principles. We offer people a Redeemer. In

The Greeks would have found nothing democratic about our parliament, which fights popular scrutiny tooth and nail and where failed ministers, at the end of their term of office, far from being held to public account, are waved off to the House of Lords.

¿por qué —cabe preguntar—, por qué se resiste a admitirlo? Simplemente a causa de un prejuicio; simplemente porque la suposición está en pugna con una noción preconcebida y totalmente infundada: la noción de la infinitud, de la eterna estabilidad del universo.

Mabel went on, and you Petites Cendres, you haven’t forgotten we’re throwing a party for your Doctor Dieudonné, oh yes, soon as he gets back, the entire Black Ancestral Choir’s going to celebrate Dieudonné, man of God taking care of the poor and never asking for one cent, why did he have to go away said Petites Cendres, carefree in the comfort of his bed, wasn’t his clinic enough, he mumbled into the dishevelled folds of his sloth, I mean why go volunteer there when we’re holding a party for him right here, Mabel’s singsong voice cut in, going from deep to nasal, he’s getting the town’s medal of honour for doctoring all you lazy layabouts and lost souls, and running two hospitals and a hospice, our very own choir director’s going to give him his plaque with those same fingers and long thin red nails of hers, the ideal man, says the doctor, is not one who piles up money but one who saves lives, why he’s even helped our Ancestral Choir a whole lot too, he’s going to need a nice black tuxedo, just what he hates, and Eureka, the head of the choir, will be so proud that day when Reverend Ézéchielle invites us all to sing in her church,

I was thinking, Mythili. All those syllables at the end of French words, all those syllables that are wasted because they are not pronounced by the French, where do they go?’ ‘Where do they go, Unni?’ ‘Theyjoin the underground Union of Insulted French Syllables.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What does the underground union do?’ ‘The syllables try to influence mankind. Over centuries, over vast ages, they try to influence man. They give humans ideas, thoughts, doubts, eureka moments. All this to help man create something, a machine probably, that would have such a name, such a word that all the syllables in the Union of Insulted French Syllables would be included and pronounced. Humans think all of science is their creation, but no, Mythili. The insulted French syllables are the ones who are giving us those ideas.’ ‘You are mad, Unni.’ ‘The leader of the union is X.’ ‘X?’ ‘Yes, the most humiliated letter in French even today. There was a time when nobody in France used to pronounce it. Don’t laugh at X, Mythili. He waited for centuries and patiently fed ideas across many generations. And finally mankind discovered the X–ray. Now the French have to pronounce X. They have no choice.

We tend to think of imagination and foresight like we are prone to think of life (sometimes) -- as an inscrutable flash of something from the outside that magically takes us over some large boundary in one atomic step. We even call it a flash (of insight), a eureka moment, a light bulb in our heads that suddenly turns on. But if you reflect on this phenomenon for a moment, you know you don't go suddenly from a blank mind to a fully formed solution. You were already thinking about the problem, and other near solutions that don't work, when suddenly you see a new connection that enables you to reuse familiar things on a novel way. Insight comes in small increments, leveraging what was already there.

Excessive consumption was not seen as a desirable sign of membership of an elite, but as a warning: it was wealth for the benefit not of the city but of the individual, and it threatened to impoverish him too. Even more dangerously, if wealthy individuals clubbed together, who knew what damage they could inflict?...Wealth could too easily pervert one's judgement.

WE USUALLY IMAGINE that invention occurs in a flash, with a eureka moment that leads a lone inventor toward a startling epiphany. In truth, large leaps forward in technology rarely have a precise point of origin. At the start, forces that precede an invention merely begin to align, often imperceptibly, as a group of people and ideas converge, until over the course of months or years (or decades) they gain clarity and momentum and the help of additional ideas and actors. Luck seems to matter, and so does timing, for it tends to be the case that the right answers, the right people, the right place—perhaps all three—require a serendipitous encounter with the right problem. And then—sometimes—a leap. Only in retrospect do such leaps look obvious.

The big question in cosmology in the early 1960s was did the universe have a beginning? Many scientists were instinctively opposed to the idea, because they felt that a point of creation would be a place where science broke down. One would have to appeal to religion and the hand of God to determine how the universe would start off. This was clearly a fundamental question, and it was just what I needed to complete my PhD thesis. Roger Penrose had shown that once a dying star had contracted to a certain radius, there would inevitably be a singularity, that is a point where space and time came to an end. Surely, I thought, we already knew that nothing could prevent a massive cold star from collapsing under its own gravity until it reached a singularity of infinite density. I realised that similar arguments could be applied to the expansion of the universe. In this case, I could prove there were singularities where space–time had a beginning. A eureka moment came in 1970, a few days after the birth of my daughter, Lucy. While getting into bed one evening, which my disability made a slow process, I realised that I could apply to black holes the casual structure theory I had developed for singularity theorems. If general relativity is correct and the energy density is positive, the surface area of the event horizon—the boundary of a black hole—has the property that it always increases when additional matter or radiation falls into it. Moreover, if two black holes collide and merge to form a single black hole, the area of the event horizon around the resulting black hole is greater than the sum of the areas of the event horizons around the original black holes.

Non credo che la pratica della scienza possa andar disgiunta dal coraggio. Essa tratta il sapere, che è un pro¬dotto del dubbio; e col procacciare sapere a tutti su ogni cosa, tende a destare il dubbio in tutti. […] I moti dei corpi celesti ci sono divenuti più chiari; ma i moti dei potenti restano pur sempre imperscruta-¬bili ai popoli. […] Finché l'umanità continuerà a brancolare nella sua nebbia millenaria di superstizioni e di venerande sentenze, finché sarà troppo ignorante per sviluppare le sue proprie energie, non sarà nemmeno capace di svilup¬pare le energie della natura che le vengono svelate. […] Se gli uomini di scienza non reagiscono all'intimidazione dei potenti egoisti e si li¬mitano ad accumulare sapere per sapere, la scienza può rimanere fiaccata per sempre, ed ogni nuova macchina non sarà fonte che di nuovi triboli per l'uomo. E quan¬do, coll'andar del tempo, avrete scoperto tutto lo scopribile, il vostro progresso non sarà che un progressivo allontanamento dall'umanità. Tra voi e l'umanità può scavarsi un abisso così grande, che ad ogni vostro eureka rischierebbe di rispondere un grido di dolore universa¬le... […] Se io avessi resistito, i naturalisti avrebbero po¬tuto sviluppare qualcosa di simile a ciò che per i medici è il giuramento d'Ippocrate: il voto solenne di far uso della scienza ad esclusivo vantaggio dell'umanità. Così stando le cose, il massimo in cui si può sperare è una progenie di gnomi inventivi, pronti a farsi assoldare per qualsiasi scopo. […] Per alcuni anni ebbi la forza di una pubblica autorità; e misi la mia sapienza a disposizione dei potenti perché la usassero, o non la usassero, o ne abusassero, a seconda dei loro fini.. Ho tradito la mia professione; e quando un uomo ha fatto ciò che ho fatto io, la sua presenza non può es-sere tollerata nei ranghi della scienza

There was a graduate student in my cohort, this guy I dated, who told me he came to realize that doing physics is like this: there's a concrete wall twenty feet thick, and you're on one side, and on the other side is everything worth knowing. And all you have is a spoon. So you just have to take a spoon and start scraping at the wall: no other way. He works in a bookstore now. But I think of it this way. There is a jigsaw puzzle. It's infinitely large, with no edges or corners to help you out. We have to put it together: it's our duty. We will never finish, but we have to find our satisfactions where we can: when we place two pieces together that suggest we may have found the place where the sky touches the sea, or when we discover a piece that is beautiful in and of itself, that has an unusual color or a glimpse of an unexpected pattern. And the pieces that do not join together also tell you something. If there are very few eureka moments, then at least there are a thousand little failures, that point the way toward a hundred little joys.

-Ese no es -dijo Cat, señalando con el índice a los corredores-. Ni ese tampoco. Es mono, pero no es él. Y ese chico seguro que no es él. -Frunció el entrecejo-. Qué raro. Puedo visualizar el aura que proyecta, pero me cuesta recordar con claridad su cara. A lo mejor es que no lo vi de cerca. -Tiene un aspecto poco común -respondió Eureka-. No en el mal sentido. Es atractivo. "Tiene los ojos como el mar -quería decir en realidad-. Los labios son de color coral. Su piel tiene la clase de poder que hace saltar la aguja de una brújula." [...] -¡Oye, Jack! -Cat se colocó en la grada encima de la que Jack estaba usando para estirar la pierna-. Estamos buscando a un tío de tu equipo que se llama Ander. ¿Cuál era su apellido, Reka? Eureka se encogió de hombros. Y lo mismo hizo Jack. -No hay ningún Ander en este equipo. Cat sacudió las piernas y las cruzo por los tobillos. -Mira, estaba en el encuentro de hace dos días, el que se canceló por la lluvia. Es un tipo alto, rubio... Ayúdame, Reka. "Con los ojos como el mar -estuvo a punto de soltar- y unas manos que podrían coger una estrella fugaz." -¿Como pálido? -logró decir. -Pues como que no está en el equipo.

Hemos llegado a un punto en que sólo la intuición puede ayudarnos; pero permítaseme repetir la idea que ya he sugerido como la única adecuada para expresar qué es la intuición. No es sino la convicción que surge de esas inducciones o deducciones cuyos procesos son tan oscuros que escapan a nuestra ciencia, eluden nuestra razón o desafían nuestra capacidad de expresión. Entendido esto, afirmo ahora que una intuición por completo irresistible aunque inexpresable me fuerza a la conclusión de que lo que Dios creó originariamente, esa materia que por obra de su voluntad sacó primero de su espíritu o de la nada, no pudo haber sido sino materia en su extremo estado concebible ¿de qué? De simplicidad.

We know nothing about how those earliest known surface glazes themselves were developed. Nevertheless, we can infer the methods of prehistoric invention by watching technologically “primitive” people today, such as the New Guineans with whom I work. I already mentioned their knowledge of hundreds of local plant and animal species and each species’ edibility, medical value, and other uses. New Guineans told me similarly about dozens of rock types in their environment and each type’s hardness, color, behavior when struck or flaked, and uses. All of that knowledge is acquired by observation and by trial and error. I see that process of “invention” going on whenever I take New Guineans to work with me in an area away from their homes. They constantly pick up unfamiliar things in the forest, tinker with them, and occasionally find them useful enough to bring home. I see the same process when I am abandoning a campsite, and local people come to scavenge what is left. They play with my discarded objects and try to figure out whether they might be useful in New Guinea society. Discarded tin cans are easy: they end up reused as containers. Other objects are tested for purposes very different from the one for which they were manufactured. How would that yellow number 2 pencil look as an ornament, inserted through a pierced ear-lobe or nasal septum? Is that piece of broken glass sufficiently sharp and strong to be useful as a knife? Eureka!

You invest so much in it, don't you? It's what elevates you above the beasts of the field, it's what makes you special. Homo sapiens, you call yourself. Wise Man. Do you even know what it is, this consciousness you cite in your own exaltation? Do you even know what it's for? Maybe you think it gives you free will. Maybe you've forgotten that sleepwalkers converse, drive vehicles, commit crimes and clean up afterwards, unconscious the whole time. Maybe nobody's told you that even waking souls are only slaves in denial. Make a conscious choice. Decide to move your index finger. Too late! The electricity's already halfway down your arm. Your body began to act a full half-second before your conscious self 'chose' to, for the self chose nothing; something else set your body in motion, sent an executive summary—almost an afterthought— to the homunculus behind your eyes. That little man, that arrogant subroutine that thinks of itself as the person, mistakes correlation for causality: it reads the summary and it sees the hand move, and it thinks that one drove the other. But it's not in charge. You're not in charge. If free will even exists, it doesn't share living space with the likes of you. Insight, then. Wisdom. The quest for knowledge, the derivation of theorems, science and technology and all those exclusively human pursuits that must surely rest on a conscious foundation. Maybe that's what sentience would be for— if scientific breakthroughs didn't spring fully-formed from the subconscious mind, manifest themselves in dreams, as full-blown insights after a deep night's sleep. It's the most basic rule of the stymied researcher: stop thinking about the problem. Do something else. It will come to you if you just stop being conscious of it. Every concert pianist knows that the surest way to ruin a performance is to be aware of what the fingers are doing. Every dancer and acrobat knows enough to let the mind go, let the body run itself. Every driver of any manual vehicle arrives at destinations with no recollection of the stops and turns and roads traveled in getting there. You are all sleepwalkers, whether climbing creative peaks or slogging through some mundane routine for the thousandth time. You are all sleepwalkers. Don't even try to talk about the learning curve. Don't bother citing the months of deliberate practice that precede the unconscious performance, or the years of study and experiment leading up to the gift- wrapped Eureka moment. So what if your lessons are all learned consciously? Do you think that proves there's no other way? Heuristic software's been learning from experience for over a hundred years. Machines master chess, cars learn to drive themselves, statistical programs face problems and design the experiments to solve them and you think that the only path to learning leads through sentience? You're Stone-age nomads, eking out some marginal existence on the veldt—denying even the possibility of agriculture, because hunting and gathering was good enough for your parents. Do you want to know what consciousness is for? Do you want to know the only real purpose it serves? Training wheels. You can't see both aspects of the Necker Cube at once, so it lets you focus on one and dismiss the other. That's a pretty half-assed way to parse reality. You're always better off looking at more than one side of anything. Go on, try. Defocus. It's the next logical step. Oh, but you can't. There's something in the way. And it's fighting back.

The mood at the table is convivial throughout the meal. A dried-sausage and prosciutto plate gives way to briny sardines, which give way to truffle-covered gnocchi topped with a plethora of herbs. Richness cut with acidity, herbaceousness and cool breezes at every turn. A simple ricotta and lemon fettuccine topped with sharp pecorino is the perfect counterpoint. I am not driving, and apparently Anjana isn't, either, so we both order a Cynar and soda. "How can we digest all the pasta without another digestif?" we exclaim to the waiter, giddily. Meat, carbs, sunshine, and lingering music coming from across the plaza have stirred us up, and soon our dessert--- some sort of chocolate cake with walnuts--- arrives. It's dense in that fudgey way a flourless concoction can be, like it has molded itself into the perfection of pure chocolate. The crunch of the walnuts is a counterweight, drawing me deeper into the flavor. I haven't been inspired by food like this in a long time, despite spending so much time thinking about food. The atmosphere at work has sucked so much of the joy out of thinking about recipes, but I find myself taking little notes on my phone for recipe experimentation when I get home. The realization jolts me. I've always felt like I have the perfect job for a creative who happens to also be left-brained. Recipes are an intriguing puzzle every single time. Today's fettuccine is the perfect example. The tartness of the lemon paired with the smooth pasta and pillowy ricotta is the no-brainer part. But the trickier puzzle piece--- the one that is necessary to connect the rest of the puzzle to the whole--- is the light grating of the pecorino on top. That tang, that edge, that cutting spice works in tangent with the lemon to give the dish its power. Lemon alone wouldn't have been enough. Pecorino alone wouldn't have been enough. The dish is so simple, but it has to fit together perfectly to work. These little moments, these exciting eurekas, are the elation I normally get in my job.

El círculo matemático es una curva compuesta de una infinidad de líneas rectas. Pero esta idea del círculo, que para la geometría corriente es sólo la idea matemática, en oposición a la idea práctica, constituye en rigor la única concepción práctica que tenemos algún derecho de sostener con respecto al majestuoso círculo al que nos referimos, por lo menos en imaginación, cuando suponemos nuestro sistema girando alrededor de un punto en el centro de la Galaxia. ¡Que la imaginación humana más vigorosa intente dar un solo paso hacía la comprensión de curva tan inefable! No sería paradójico decir que un relámpago que recorriera eternamente el perímetro de este círculo fantástico viajaría eternamente en línea recta. Que la trayectoria del Sol en esa órbita se desviara para cualquier percepción humana en el más mínimo grado de la línea recta, aun en un millón de años, es una proposición insostenible; sin embargo, se nos pide creamos que una curvatura ha llegado a ser perceptible durante el breve período de nuestra historia astronómica, durante un mero punto, durante la nada absoluta de dos o tres mil años.