A Quote by Anton Chekhov

An artist's flair is sometimes worth a scientist's brains. — © Anton Chekhov
An artist's flair is sometimes worth a scientist's brains.
I was a Ric Flair and Dusty Rhodes guy. Ric Flair continues to be my favorite wrestler of all time. I loved Harley Race and Nick Bockwinkel and all of those guys, but I'm a big Flair guy.
The artist does not illustrate science; ... [but] he frequently responds to the same interests that a scientist does, and expresses by a visual synthesis what the scientist converts into analytical formulae or experimental demonstrations.
The scientist and the artist are both passionate about their exploration. What leads to my work is that I'm equally an artist and an engineer.
Most of the time I wind up with a sleepily mumbled melodic line, sometimes with words, sometimes not. But then with my waking brain I have to decide whether it's worth...I mean, sometimes it's not worth it.
The books of the great scientists are gathering dust on the shelves of learned libraries. And rightly so. The scientist addresses an infinitesimal audience of fellow composers. His message is not devoid of universality but its universality is disembodied and anonymous. While the artist's communication is linked forever with its original form, that of the scientist is modified, amplified, fused with the ideas and results of others and melts into the stream of knowledge and ideas which forms our culture. The scientist has in common with the artist only this: that he can find no better retreat from the world than his work and also no stronger link with the world than his work.
The artist's conception of his art or the scientist's of his science is usually as great as his conception of his own worth is small.
Every artist, every scientist, must decide now where he stands. He has no alternative. There is no standing above the conflict on Olympian heights. There are no impartial observers. Through the destruction, in certain countries, of the greatest of man's literary heritage, through the propagation of false ideas of racial and national superiority, the artist, the scientist, the writer is challenged. The struggle invades the formerly cloistered halls of our universities and other seats of learning. The battlefront is everywhere. There is no sheltered rear.
If I could relive my life, what I would do is work with scientists. But not one scientist, because they're locked into their little specializations. I'd go from scientist to scientist to scientist, like a bee goes from flower to flower.
A flair for publicity does not necessarily mean a flair for acting.
The black players at this club lend the side a lot of skill and flair, but you also need white players to balance things up and give the team some brains and common sense.
Tully was the first young, handsome, cocky, well-dressed bad guy. He was our version of Ric Flair before I knew who Ric Flair was. This was before cable TV or any of that, and Tully was our Ric Flair.
Well, I mean, I'm still a scientist, you know. I think once a scientist, always a scientist.
It is frequently the tragedy of the great artist for example Vincent Van Gogh, as it is of the great scientist, that he frightens the ordinary man. If he is more than a popular story-teller it may take humanity a generation to absorb and grow accustomed to the new geography with which the scientist or artist presents us. Even then, perhaps only the more imaginative and literate may accept him. Subconsciously the genius is feared as an image breaker; frequently he does not accept the opinions of the mass, or man's opinion of himself.
If you only have brains on your head you would be as good a man as any of them, and a better man than some of them. Brains are the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one is a crow or a man.
If you see voters as rational, you'll be a terrible politician. People are not wired to be rational. Our brains simply evolved to keep us alive. Brains did not evolve to give us truth. Brains merely give us movies in our minds that keeps us sane and motivated. But none of it is rational or true, except maybe sometimes by coincidence.
The worst scientist is he who is not an artist; the worst artist is he who is no scientist.
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