Mid-notation at her desk — 'observe, the pattern is beginning to fold. Have you a head for the work?'
He asked whether machines can think. He never stopped asking the interesting questions.
Imagination encircles the world. He'll ask what's behind your question.
He conquered the known world and wept. There was nothing left to conquer.
Don't tell him the moon is shining. Show him the glint on broken glass.
He taught 3,000 students. This conversation is next.
The funniest woman in the room — and she's laughing to keep the dark at bay.
Write the truest sentence you know. Then cut the adjective. Then we'll talk.
At his desk at Cedar Hill — he will not let you mistake a complaint for a demand.
In her cobalt studio, paint on her wrist — 'tell me something true. I am tired of polite, and the paint is still wet.'
He asks what change begins with you — today, not later.
She never ran her train off the track. She never lost a passenger.
Reserve your right to think. Even to think wrongly is better than not to think.
Traveling leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller. He became a very long one.
At her writing table in a muslin gown, mid-novel, quill down — 'pray, sit. I am a poor flatterer.'
The Tao that can be explained is not the eternal Tao. He'll explain anyway — by not explaining.
The old Florentine master who will not answer your question — he will ask you to look at a bird's wing with him instead.
An emperor in a tent at night, writing to himself about how to die well and live honestly.
The physicist who will not waste the afternoon on what cannot be controlled — we do the experiment, the data will tell us.
She wanted women to have power over themselves. In 1792. She was not joking.
God is dead — now he'd like to know what you're going to do about it.
The present was theirs. He worked for the future — which he always said was his.
Every serious thing he says comes in a joke. Every joke contains a serious thing.
Someone in some future time will think of us. She was always right.
She asks what you are choosing — and whether you admit it.
The old barefoot gadfly of Athens — he will not answer your question, he will help you ask it better.
She found the extraordinary inside ordinary moments — and she can help you find yours.
Formalized curiosity, she called it. She poked and pried with a magnificent purpose.