Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Bill Bryson

Quote by Bill Bryson

“As we parted at the Natural History Museum in London, I asked Richard Fortey how science ensures that when one person goes there's someone ready to take his place. He chuckled rather heartily at my naiveté. 'I'm afraid it's not as if we have substitutes sitting on the bench somewhere waiting to be called in to play. When a specialist retires or, even more unfortunately, dies, that can bring a stop to things in that field, sometimes for a very long while.' And I suppose that's why you value someone who spends forty-two years studying a single species of plant, even if it doesn't produce anything terribly new?' 'Precisely,' he said, 'precisely.' And he really seemed to mean it.”

Quote by Bill Bryson

Work

A Short History of Nearly Everything

This book offers a wide-ranging exploration of the cosmos, delving into the fundamental questions of existence, the development of the universe, and the role of humans in the grand scheme of things. It covers scientific discoveries and theories across various fields, including physics, chemistry, and biology, providing a narrative that intertwines the story of science with the story of humanity. more

Author

Bill Bryson
Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson, born on December 8, 1951, is a British author known for his humorous and knowledgeable writing. His works span across various fields, including travel literature, natural history, and science popularization. more

You May Also Like

“I'm a fucking idiot. No, he was a man in love with a woman who meant the entire universe to him. Like I said, you're a fucking idiot. And for the first time in his life, he was happy being stupid because the only alternative would be existing without her, and now that he'd tasted the sunlight she brought into his world, he never wanted to live in the darkness again. Please don't send me back to the night.”

“As he walked, his gaze drifted to Findlater’s Corner. The familiar landmark, with its ornate clock and proud stag’s head cresting the building, should have been a reassuring sight. But something was wrong. The clock—he couldn’t look away—was spinning wildly, its hands racing in a frenzied loop. A jolt of fear shot through him, visceral and inexplicable, freezing him mid-step. And then it happened. A blinding flash seared his vision, the shriek of brakes tearing through the air. A horn blared, deafening and close. Time splintered into jagged fragments, each moment stretching into eternity as he turned, his pulse pounding in his ears. The truck barrelled toward him, a monstrous wall of gleaming metal and unstoppable force. His breath hitched—too fast, too close. Panic clutched at him; his body frozen in place even as his mind screamed to move.”

“You cling so tightly to your purity, my lad! How terrified you are of sullying your hands. Well, go ahead then, stay pure! What good will it do, and why even bother coming here among us? Purity is a concept of fakirs and friars. But you, the intellectuals, the bourgeois anarchists, you invoke purity as your rationalization for doing nothing. Do nothing, don’t move, wrap your arms tight around your body, put on your gloves. As for myself, my hands are dirty. I have plunged my arms up to the elbows in excrement and blood. And what else should one do? Do you suppose that it is possible to govern innocently?”

“The surpluses will have to be expended somehow, and trust the oligarchs to find a way. Magnificent roads will be built. There will be great achievements in science, and especially in art. When the oligarchs have completely mastered the people, they will have time to spare for other things. They will become worshippers of beauty. They will become art-lovers. And under their direction and generously rewarded, will toil the artists. The result will be great art; for no longer, as up to yesterday, will the artists pander to the bourgeois taste of the middle class. It will be great art, I tell you, and wonder cities will arise that will make tawdry and cheap the cities of old time. And in these cities will the oligarchs dwell and worship beauty”