Time makes fools of us all. Our only comfort is that greater shall come after us.

Ye fools and blind: for whether is greater, the gift, or the altar that sanctifieth the gift? / Whoso therefore shall swear by the altar, sweareth by it, and by all things thereon.

Science makes no pretension to eternal truth or absolute truth.

I have always hated machinery, and the only machine I ever understood was a wheelbarrow, and that but imperfectly.

[A] final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works.

If indeed, as Hilbert asserted, mathematics is a meaningless game played with meaningless marks on paper, the only mathematical experience to which we can refer is the making of marks on paper.