Onion Quotes (9 quotes)
[Maria Goeppert Mayer is] the Madonna of the Onion.
By looking at the sun at different wavelengths, we can peel off the different layers in the (solar) atmosphere, just like peeling an onion.
March 15th. Imperial Banquet for Welcoming the English Cruelty to Animals. MENU OF FOODS: VITAMIN A, Tin Sardines. VITAMIN B, Roasted Beef. VITAMIN C, Small Roasted Suckling Porks. VITAMIN D, Hot Sheep and Onions. VITAMIN E, Spiced Turkey. VITAMIN F, Sweet Puddings. VITAMIN G, Coffee. VITAMIN H, Jam.
People say to me, “Are you looking for the ultimate laws of physics?” No, I’m not; I’m just looking to find out more about the world and if it turns out there is a simple ultimate law which explains everything, so be it; that would be very nice to discover. If it turns out it’s like an onion with millions of layers, and we’re just sick and tired of looking at the layers, then that’s the way it is …
The astronomer is severely handicapped as compared with other scientists. He is forced into a comparatively passive role. He cannot invent his own experiments as the physicist, the chemist or the biologist can. He cannot travel about the Universe examining the items that interest him. He cannot, for example, skin a star like an onion and see how it works inside.
The universe is simmering down, like a giant stew left to cook for four billion years. Sooner or later we won’t be able to tell the carrots from the onions.
Two kinds of symbol must surely be distinguished. The algebraic symbol comes naked into the world of mathematics and is clothed with value by its masters. A poetic symbol—like the Rose, for Love, in Guillaume de Lorris—comes trailing clouds of glory from the real world, clouds whose shape and colour largely determine and explain its poetic use. In an equation, x and y will do as well as a and b; but the Romance of the Rose could not, without loss, be re-written as the Romance of the Onion, and if a man did not see why, we could only send him back to the real world to study roses, onions, and love, all of them still untouched by poetry, still raw.
We are peeling an onion layer by layer, each layer uncovering in a sense another universe, unexpected, complicated, and— as we understand more—strangely beautiful.
Well loved he garlic, onions, and eke leeks,
And for to drinken strong wine, red as blood.
And for to drinken strong wine, red as blood.