I feel like an egg, of which only the shell remains; at 75 years old, one can’t expect anything else. One should prepare a person for his death.

I find the idea quite intolerable that an electron exposed to radiation should choose of its own free will , not only its moment to jump off, but also its direction. In that case I would rather be a cobbler, or even an employee in a gaming-house, than a physicist.

I hardly ever felt as alienated from people as I do right now… The worst is that nowhere is there anything with which one can identify. Brutality and lies are everywhere.

I hate my pictures. Look at my face. If it weren’t for this [mustache], I’d look like a woman!

I have finished my task here.

I have firmly resolved to bite the dust, when my time comes, with a minimum of medical assistance, and up to then I will sin to my wicked heart’s content.

I have never lost an obstinate sense of detachment, of the need for solitude—a feeling which increases over the years.