Underneath the shifting appearances of the world as perceived by our unreliable senses, is there, or is there not, a bedrock of objective reality?

Claude Shannon, the founder of information theory, invented a way to measure 'the amount of information' in a message without defining the word 'information' itself, nor even addressing the question of the meaning of the message.

An electron is real a probability is not.

The switch from 'steam engines' to 'heat engines' signals the transition from engineering practice to theoretical science.

We don't know what energy is, any more than we know what information is, but as a now robust scientific concept we can describe it in precise mathematical terms, and as a commodity we can measure, market, regulate and tax it.

Numbers instill a feeling for the lie of the land, and furnish grist for the mathematical mill that is the physicist's principal tool.

Entropy is not about speeds or positions of particles, the way temperature and pressure and volume are, but about our lack of information.

Time has been called God's way of making sure that everything doesn't happen at once. In the same spirit, noise is Nature's way of making sure that we don't find out everything that happens. Noise, in short, is the protector of information.

If the intensity of the material world is plotted along the horizontal axis, and the response of the human mind is on the vertical, the relation between the two is represented by the logarithmic curve. Could this rule provide a clue to the relationship between the objective measure of information, and our subjective perception of it?

The smell of subjectivity clings to the mechanical definition of complexity as stubbornly as it sticks to the definition of information.

Paradox is the sharpest scalpel in the satchel of science. Nothing concentrates the mind as effectively, regardless of whether it pits two competing theories against each other, or theory against observation, or a compelling mathematical deduction against ordinary common sense.

The solution of the Monty Hall problem hinges on the concept of information, and more specifically, on the relationship between added information and probability.

Information gently but relentlessly drizzles down on us in an invisible, impalpable electric rain.

If quantum communication and quantum computation are to flourish, a new information theory will have to be developed.

Both induction and deduction, reasoning from the particular and the general, and back again from the universal to the specific, form the essence to scientific thinking.

This is not what I thought physics was about when I started out: I learned that the idea is to explain nature in terms of clearly understood mathematical laws but perhaps comparisons are the best we can hope for.