Nomophobia - the fear of having our phones taken from us - is taking over our lives. The smart devices are in our homes, carried room-to-room as if glued to the hands of our family members. They meander into the bathroom, the laundry room, the shop, the garage, backyard and even into the bedroom where the adults once had their "alone time." Our teenage children require them to either be under their pillows, by their pillows or within arm's reach at a nightstand in order to even sleep at night. The cell phone must be visible for them to take tests at school without withdrawal anxiety. The phones travel where we do - school, the office, the gym, so that we are in constant contact with the virtual world - other people who also have no real lives outside of their phone. They are ringing in churches, movie theaters, restaurants, concerts, funerals. Nothing says "goodbye" to the recently departed like your ring tone from Metallica's Hardwired. Welcome to the world of smart phone addiction.

'The difficult is what takes a little time; the impossible is what takes a little longer,' said Fridtj of Nansen, who personally repatriated more than 400,000 prisoners of war after World War I and helped save millions of Russians from starvation. Albert Einstein prudently advised, 'Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts' and Cseslaw Milosz warned, 'In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.' Since 1901, the Nobel Prize has been the hallmark of genius, but Nobel laureates tend to be more than merely brilliant - their idealism, courage and concern for humanity have also made them sources of inspiration and wisdom. Contrary to the notion that geniuses are absentminded eccentrics, many Nobel laureates have been social activists and political leaders, and some have been polymaths whose interests and talents were diverse, such as Philip Noel-Baker, winner of the 1959 Peace Prize, who ran in three Olympic Games. The quotations here are grouped by such themes as achievement, truth and falsehood, war and conflict, technology, and most have never been anthologised previously.

"Prince Patrick" was a nick name given to me as a child by my family and parent's friends that reflected my attitude and desire to be treated in a manner befitting a little prince. A sign of endearment to humor my natural, idiosyncratic demeanor. I actually never thought of myself as royalty, rather, that I was "special," destined for greatness or to be famous, and should be treated as an incubating celebrity. But just how was I going to become a figure in history? A doctor or scientist that discovered a cure to a hideous disease or condition? An actor/artist that was going to define my generation? Or would I become infamous? Whereas, my innocent "hijinks" would lead to other more serious acts that would get me recognized for the wrong reasons. These stories of my eccentric exploits, told time and time again at family gatherings, have made both family and friends smile, giggle and laugh hysterically, with the words "no he did not" uttered more than once.