Georg Wilhelm Richmann was attending a meeting at the St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences in August 1753 when he heard thunder. He ran home with another man, hoping to record how an insulated rod responded to an electrical storm.
He succeeded, in a way: A ball of lightning leapt from the rod and struck Richmann in the head, killing him instantly and knocking his companion unconscious. That makes Richmann the first person in history to die while conducting electrical experiments.
Joseph Priestley wrote, “It is not given to every electrician to die in so glorious a manner as the justly envied Richmann.” That’s one way to look at it.
Think of a number greater than 1. Double it.
Between these two values is at least one prime number.
“A hen is only an egg’s way of making another egg.” — Samuel Butler
“A zygote is a gamete’s way of producing more gametes. This may be the purpose of the universe.” — Robert Heinlein
“The nucleic acids invented human beings in order to be able to reproduce themselves even on the moon.” — Sol Spiegelman
27 – 1 = 127
Set a beetle or a turtle on its back and it will right itself.
Remarkably, so will the Gömböc — a mathematical shape that can’t be knocked down. Set it down in any position and it will always “get to its feet”:
Each term in the Fibonacci sequence is derived by adding the two preceding terms:
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 …
Remarkably, you can use successive terms to convert miles to kilometers:
8 miles ≈ 13 kilometers
13 miles ≈ 21 kilometers
This works because the two units stand in the golden ratio (to within 0.5 percent).
(3 + 4)3 = 343
9 + 10 + 11 + 12 = 13 + 14 + 15
“There are two rules for success,” says Raymond Smullyan. “Rule number one: Never tell all you know.”
Mark the faces of three dice as follows:
- Die A: 2, 2, 4, 4, 9, 9
- Die B: 1, 1, 6, 6, 8, 8
- Die C: 3, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7
Remarkably, you’ll find that Die A tends to beat Die B, Die B beats Die C, … and Die C beats Die A.
A “multi-magic” square: Each row and column sums to 260; square each term and they sum to 11,180.
“Numero deus impare gaudet [the god delights in odd numbers].” — Virgil
“Why is it that we entertain the belief that for every purpose odd numbers are the most effectual?” — Pliny
“This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. … They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.” — Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor
Before his students arrived for a graduate course in logic, Raymond Smullyan wrote on the blackboard:
PLEASE DO NOT ERASE — BECAUSE IF YOU DO, THOSE WHO COME LATER WON’T KNOW THAT THEY SHOULDN’T ERASE.
Suppose you flip three fair coins.
Necessarily two will match, and it’s an even chance whether the third will be head or tail.
Therefore the chance that all three will match is 1/2.
8589934592 × 116415321826934814453125 = 1000000000000000000000000000000000
What’s the difference between six dozen dozen and half a dozen dozen?
If you answered “nothing,” reconsider.
Syllogisms offered in Lewis Carroll’s 1896 textbook in symbolic logic:
1. Babies are illogical.
2. Nobody is despised who can manage a crocodile.
3. Illogical persons are despised.
Therefore babies cannot manage crocodiles.
1. No interesting poems are unpopular among people of real taste.
2. No modern poetry is free from affectation.
3. All your poems are on the subject of soap bubbles.
4. No affected poetry is popular among people of taste.
5. Only a modern poem would be on the subject of soap bubbles.
Therefore all your poems are uninteresting.
Raymond Smullyan proposes a scene in which two men are regarding a blackboard. On the board is written ONLY AN IDIOT WOULD BELIEVE THIS SENTENCE.
The first man says, “Do you believe that sentence?”
The second says, “Of course not. Only an idiot would believe that sentence.”
“He clearly does believe it, yet he says he doesn’t believe it,” Smullyan says. “So he’s in the curious position of believing something and also believing that he doesn’t believe it.”
A doubly magic square: Every row and column adds to 840 and multiplies to 2,058,068,231,856,000.
The waistcoat should first be unbuttoned in the front, and then the buckle at the back must be unloosed. The operator, standing in front of the person operated upon, should then place his hands underneath the coat at the back, taking hold of the bottom of the waistcoat, at the same time requesting the wearer to extend his arms at full length over his head. Now raise the bottom part of the waistcoat over the head of the wearer (if the waistcoat be tight it will be necessary to force it a little, but this must not be minded so long as the waistcoat is not torn); the waistcoat then will have been brought to the front of the wearer, across his chest. Take the right side bottom-end of the waistcoat, and put it into the arm-hole of the coat at the shoulder, at the same time putting the hand up the sleeve, seizing the end, and drawing it down the sleeve; this action will release one arm-hole of the garment to be removed. The next thing to be done is to pull the waistcoat back again out of the sleeve of the coat, and put the same end of the waistcoat into the left arm-hole of the coat, again putting the hand up the sleeve of the coat as before, and seizing the end of the garment. It may then be drawn quite through the sleeve, and the puzzle is accomplished.
— Cassell’s Complete Book of Sports and Pastimes, 1896
In 1610, thinking he had discovered two moons orbiting Saturn, Galileo composed a message:
ALTISSIMUM PLANETAM TERGEMINUM OBSERVAVI (“I have observed the most distant planet to have a triple form”)
… and sent it to Kepler as an anagram:
Remarkably, Kepler managed to “solve” this as a message about Mars, not Saturn:
SALVE UMBISTENEUM GEMINATUM MARTIA PROLES (“Hail, twin companionship, children of Mars”)
The German astronomer had predicted that the Red Planet had two moons, and imagined that Galileo was confirming his belief.
There’s a message in this, somewhere.