“I’d teach the rose to take care of itself.”
“You’re crazy,” he snapped, and walked on, Jarvis at his heels.
“I didn’t come to quarrel with you about our views of gardening, or of life. I realize that we have no common ground. You are of the Past, and I am of the Future.”
“There is nobody more modern than I am!” cried the Professor.
“Rubbish! No modern wastes his life in rows of inanimate numerals. We get out and work at humanity and its problems.”
“What are the problems of humanity?”
“Food, employment, education, health.”
“All of them mathematical. Economics is mathematical.”
“Well, I wish instead of teaching a few thousand students higher algebra that you had taught your own daughter a little common sense.”
“Common sense is not taught. It is a gift of the gods, like genius,” said the Professor.
Jarvis glanced at him quickly, and took out the notebook.
“Put that thing away!” shouted the Professor. “I will not be annotated.”
