I’ve played with a broken hand, a sprained ankle, a torn shoulder, a fractured tooth, a severed lip, and a knee the size of a softball. I don’t miss games because of a toe injury that everybody knows wasn’t that serious in the first place.

To eat bread without hope is still slowly to starve to death.

Mathematics is the language with which God has written the universe.

We are survival machines—robot vehicles blindly programmed to preserve the selfish molecules known as genes.

The deepest theorems often arise from the simplest observations.