Yes. I try not to overdo it. I think it comes down to the people, and there are several people I take the time to talk with. Different types of friends. I also like the transportation time when I’m traveling, like on an airplane. Those times allow me to see things I was missing, when I was only looking at the outside. Perhaps I travel in seek of that.

I stop, but I don’t throw anything away. I don’t put pressure on myself to finish anything. I usually just think, “Okay I had this idea for a reason, but it’s just not working right now. Let me go take a walk.” I can only do like 20, 30-minute intervals, because I’m so fast. If I have an idea, I can get it down quickly. Once it’s down, it’s down. I don’t have to make a whole album out of it. I’ll literally just go outside for a walk for 20 more minutes and then come back. It depends on what the deadline is, but usually I’ll just write it down, make a little something, think about it for five or six days, and then go back to it.

It comes in fits and starts. In the past I thought about them as creative blocks, but I don’t really think about it like that anymore. I just think about it as a season. That’s okay.

I talk to someone. Dialogue helps relax the mind and new ideas are planted as people talk to me. Sometimes one phone call is enough, other times meeting a friend at a café or a bar will do the trick. To take the focus out of ourselves for a while helps us find new creative ways. We shouldn’t be prisoners to the traps our brain creates. To read or to go out for a walk can also be rather helpful.

The first principle is that you must not fool yourself—and you are the easiest person to fool. So you have to be very careful about that. After you've not fooled yourself, it's easy not to fool other scientists. You just have to be honest in a conventional way after that.

There was no importance to what I was doing, but ultimately there was.  The diagrams and the whole business that I got the Nobel Prize for came from that piddling around with the wobbling plate.

So I find that teaching and the students keep life going, and I would never accept any position in which somebody has invented a happy solution for me where I don’t have to teach.  Never.

Then there was Von Neumann, the great mathemati-cian. We used to go for walks on Sunday. We'd walk in the canyons, and we'd often walk with Bethe, and Von Neumann, and Bacher. It was a great pleasure. And Von Neumann gave me an interesting idea; that you don't have to be responsible for the world that you're in.

I don’t believe I can really do without teaching.  The reason is, I have to have something so that when I don’t have any ideas and I’m not getting anywhere I can say to myself, “At least I’m living; at least I’m doing something; I’m making some contribution”—it’s just psychological.

It was a brilliant idea: You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish.  I have no responsibility to be like they expect me to be.