“There is no finer sight than that of the intel­li­gence at grips with a reality that tran­scends it.”

Albert Camus (The Myth of Sisyphus)



“One cannot help but be in awe when one con­tem­plates the mys­teries of eter­nity, of life, of the mar­velous struc­ture of reality.”

Albert Einstein [1]



Before the new world was dis­cov­ered, a famous legend, first put to pen by Plato, fore­told of a mag­nif­i­cent realm whose shores hid in the great void that stretched beyond the Pillars of Hercules (the Strait of Gibraltar). This mys­te­rious Atlantic shire stood as a symbol of har­mony. It was described as a place full of tran­scen­dent trea­sures where human poten­tial could expand beyond tra­di­tional limits. The gateway to this clan­des­tine land was said to be a port so rich in sym­metry that all of its elab­o­rate details came together to form an aes­thetic marvel with an unmis­tak­able sense of artistic magic.

The mere pos­si­bility that such a golden city existed was enchanting, yet there was some­thing more to this legend, some­thing stir­ring and pro­found that res­onated every time it was told. The very idea that out there, beyond the mists, an entire con­ti­nent was still waiting to be dis­cov­ered was bone chilling. If it were true, it would mean that despite all the knowl­edge humanity had amassed, there was much more to learn. It would mean that every pre­vious ren­di­tion of the world that we had so faith­fully relied upon was wildly incom­plete; that there was far more to the world than anyone had pre­vi­ously imag­ined. In the end, it would require mankind to com­pletely rewrite its most trusted maps.

This legend offered a pos­si­bility that intrepid explorers could not ignore – the chance to par­tic­i­pate in the highest quest. It ampli­fied the dream of con­necting to cer­tain and uni­versal truths by offering humanity a way to touch the under­lying mys­tery and to actively extend their per­cep­tions beyond the horizon. To those that would sail off into the glim­mering mirages that cap­ture the evening sun, this whisper of hope became the Sirens’ greatest song. Over time, the lure and pas­sionate curiosity char­ac­ter­ized by this legend entered the common tongue and became known as the call of Atlantis. Answering this call was to embrace the cher­ished heart of Plato’s legend. Those who did came to believe that by ascending through the stages of ratio­nality the attain­ment of enlight­en­ment becomes a real pos­si­bility; that ulti­mately we can escape the cave of igno­rance and learn to grasp what lies beyond the shadows.

For the most part, the legend of Atlantis was con­sid­ered a heretical myth. The very notion that the world con­tained entire con­ti­nents yet to be dis­cov­ered was con­sid­ered laugh­able and blas­phe­mous. European maps of the world clearly showed three con­ti­nents — no more. Faith in the accu­racy of these maps had won wars and guided men home from far away places. Consequently, the rulers of every land kept their per­sonal maps under lock and key and con­sid­ered them their most prized pos­ses­sions. These maps gave them per­spec­tive, framed their world, and defined their place in it. Any claim that their maps were wrong was an attack on their entire model of reality. But the legend of Atlantis lived on.

The boldest pages of our past are col­ored by the achieve­ments and dis­cov­eries of gal­lant indi­vid­uals that havedi­rectly par­tic­i­pated in the­un­wrav­eling of our world’s mys­teries. By chal­lenging con­ven­tion and fol­lowing their intu­itions toward a richer, more com­plete map, they bring us new insight. Of the his­tor­ical fig­ures that have shared in this expe­ri­ence I will men­tion two that appro­pri­ately set the stage for the work herein. These par­tic­ular explorers have made a poignant impact on the maps that frame our modern world­view. Their insights have led to many of the unex­pected dis­cov­eries that ulti­mately moti­vate the higher-dimensional map we will be intro­ducing and exploring in this book.

The first of these indi­vid­uals may have secretly believed that the tale of Atlantis was more than just a myth. He may have har­bored the intu­ition that beyond the horizon there was more to be found than his maps resolved; that some­where in that rhythmic oceanic trance Plato’s city of gold was shim­mering in the sun­light. Seven years after Marsilio Ficino trans­lated Plato’s legend of Atlantis into Latin the Queen of Spain agreed to finance his expe­di­tion. [2] The recorded goal of that expe­di­tion was to find a shorter trade route to the rich con­ti­nent of Cathay (modern China), India, and the fabled gold and Spice Islands of the East. The man who pro­posed this expe­di­tion and then sailed out into the Atlantic abyss was Christopher Columbus. [3]

It is con­ceiv­able that Columbus used a com­bi­na­tion of rumors, leg­ends, and the maps at his dis­posal to secretly cal­cu­late where the land of Atlantis was most likely to be. Despite his prepa­ra­tions, his pro­jec­tion con­tained a for­tu­itous cal­cu­la­tion error that would guide his fate. The size of the Earth, according to his maps, was far smaller than its actual size, because the cal­cu­la­tions they were based on had not been con­verted from Arabic miles — which are sig­nif­i­cantly longer. As a con­se­quence, Columbus con­ceived the lands of the East being much closer than they actu­ally were. Nevertheless, his offi­cially pro­posed route would take him in the gen­eral direc­tion of his hidden goal.

History records that while underway Columbus devi­ated from his pro­posed India-bound course toward the north­west for sev­eral days. This devi­a­tion sug­gests that he was searching for some­thing not on his offi­cial itin­erary. He was sailing into the unknown, fueled only by a dream, and taking a chance that would for­ever change mankind’s per­cep­tion of the world. This risky maneuver almost ended in mutiny.

Although Columbus never found Atlantis, or a shorter route to India, his voyage did show that our most trusted maps can be wildly incom­plete. In this, his intu­ition was wholly vin­di­cated. There was indeed an entire con­ti­nent beyond the Atlantic waters awaiting dis­covery. In fact, there was much more to the world than the maps of his era por­trayed. More impor­tantly, the por­tions that were missing from those maps were dis­cov­er­able. [4]

Hundreds of years later, another incom­plete map was con­fronted. Instead of charting the var­ious lands divided by the waters, this map charted the very para­me­ters of phys­ical reality. The man who chal­lenged the old map had a dream to dis­cover a frame­work wherein all the laws of Nature were simple, har­mo­nious, and uni­fied. He believed that such a map must ulti­mately be within intu­itive grasp. He rec­og­nized that the old map, Newtonian mechanics, was no longer capable of charting the ever-increasing array of human obser­va­tions. To him, this meant that there must be new para­me­ters waiting to be dis­cov­ered, and he set out to unearth them. The call of this quixotic quest defined his entire life. The man, of course, was Albert Einstein. He was far more than the father of rel­a­tivity or the grand­fa­ther of quantum mechanics; he was the author of a new legend — the legend of a new Atlantis.

Figure 0-1 Einstein’s Quest


The map that Einstein was searching for — the one that would reveal this new ‘Atlantis’ — is called a uni­fied field theory. Those that could not hear the under­lying call of Atlantis often mis­took Einstein’s goal to obtain a uni­fied and sim­pli­fied math­e­mat­ical rep­re­sen­ta­tion of gravity and elec­tro­mag­netism, no small task in itself, but Einstein’s aim was much higher. His was a dream of being able to peer into the fabric of phys­ical reality — to onto­log­i­cally access and fully com­pre­hend its struc­ture, beauty, and the bounds of its poten­tial. His goal embodied the highest aspi­ra­tion of expe­ri­encing the ulti­mate con­nec­tion to Nature and grasping the most ele­gant under­standing of what it means to be.

Einstein poet­i­cally wanted to be able to touch what lay beyond the horizon. His intu­ition told him that this goal was within human reach and his explorer’s spirit endowed him with the pas­sion to con­tinue his quest throughout his entire life. On the day before he died, Einstein called for paper and scrib­bled some cal­cu­la­tions in a last hope to com­plete the map. “He knew he was dying. He knew he would not be able to com­plete the cal­cu­la­tion. He did it anyway. The problem still mat­tered, and he still cared.” (Levenson 2004, 45) This was his legend.


Figure 0-2 Last Decoding Breaths


Over the years, Einstein’s legend infused the world. Newspapers her­alded each of his pub­li­ca­tions with enthu­si­astic antic­i­pa­tion; building the rumors that Dr. Einstein had dis­cov­ered a key insight that allowed him to unveil some of Nature’s deepest secrets. When his papers were released, people flocked to see the new equa­tions, even though most of them con­sid­ered the menagerie of sym­bols to be com­pletely incom­pre­hen­sible. The Prussian Academy printed a thou­sand copies of one such paper and released them on January 30, 1929. They promptly sold out. The Academy had to print three thou­sand more. When one set of those pages was pasted in the win­dows of a London depart­ment store, crowds of people who were drawn to the call of this new Atlantis gath­ered in the cold, pushing for­ward for their chance to glimpse the com­plex math­e­mat­ical trea­tise. It didn’t matter that the thirty-three arcane equa­tions were unin­tel­li­gible to most of them. What mat­tered was that a great mind was attempting to bring humanity a tran­scen­dent trea­sure — a map of the mind of God.

As it turned out, those equa­tions didn’t com­plete the map. Nevertheless, as a symbol of the growing recog­ni­tion of the impor­tance of Einstein’s efforts, Wesleyan University in Connecticut paid a large sum to pur­chase the hand­written man­u­script. The papers were deposited in the University library as a trea­sure. (Isaacson 2007, 343)

Like Columbus, Einstein never reached his end goal. Nevertheless, his dis­cov­eries did show that the Newtonian map was incom­plete, that entire dimen­sional con­ti­nents were still waiting to be dis­cov­ered. Einstein res­ur­rected the call of Atlantis and left us with the intrepid task of sailing the tumul­tuous waters of per­cep­tion as we attempt to dis­cover those continents.

To help guide us toward our des­ti­na­tion, Einstein con­structed ‘rubber sheet dia­grams’ in an attempt to epor­traying curved space­time (see Chapter 9). Those dia­grams are quite useful, but they are also incom­plete. They map the cur­va­ture of only two space dimen­sions, and they offer no pic­to­rial expla­na­tion for warped time. Nonetheless, the par­tial pic­ture that comes with gen­eral rel­a­tivity dra­mat­i­cally improves our under­standing of Nature. It reveals space and time as rel­a­tive enti­ties, gravity fields as geo­metric dis­tor­tions in the vacuum and, most impor­tantly, it releases us from some of our most longheld assump­tions about reality.

Einstein’s col­lec­tive insights (the dis­covery of the pho­to­elec­tric effect, which rev­o­lu­tion­ized elec­tronics, explaining Brownian motion, which ver­i­fied the exis­tence of atoms, and his mas­ter­pieces of spe­cial and gen­eral rel­a­tivity) sired a tech­no­log­ical rev­o­lu­tion that lit­er­ally invented our modern world. As a result we now have tran­sis­tors, atomic bombs, lasers, bar-code scan­ners, dig­ital alarm clocks, charged cou­pled devices in dig­ital cam­eras, broad­band Internet access, iPhones, solar panels, GPS, fiber optics, remote con­trols, tele­vi­sions, DVDs, cancer radi­a­tion treat­ments, smoke detec­tors, the chem­istry of col­loids, which is the prog­en­itor of our modern roads, and many of our modern phar­ma­ceu­ti­cals from statins to Viagra and more. His insights also set into motion the sci­ence of cos­mology, the study of ulti­mate ori­gins, which pro­duced the Inflationary Big Bang theory and enabled us to com­pre­hend far more about the evo­lu­tion of our uni­verse and our place in it than ever before.

Despite the dra­matic effects these things have had on our every day lives, it is impor­tant to rec­og­nize that all of these advance­ments were simple pit stops toward Einstein’s true des­ti­na­tion. They were the fabled spices, not the city of gold.

Because of the clarity he attained by peering into the fabric of reality fur­ther than anyone had before him, Einstein never wavered in his belief that a deeper truth was attain­able. He had glimpsed the edge of that truth by ‘lifting a corner of the great veil.’ Because of this, he spent his life in oppo­si­tion to those whose goal was to define reality as incom­pre­hen­sible. They aimed to reduce Einstein’s legend into mere myth, and claimed that the human mind has inbuilt lim­i­ta­tions that can never be over­come. Einstein’s oppo­nents declared that even if a com­plete map of Nature exists in prin­ciple, it would be for­ever beyond our ability to com­pre­hend in prac­tice. What is worse is that those fig­ure­heads devel­oped the self-destructive notion that ‘good sci­ence’ cannot be mixed with emo­tion or spir­i­tu­ality — that emo­tion and spir­i­tu­ality can only be grounded in the super­nat­ural. Somehow they never heard the music. They never felt the call of Atlantis.

Above all else, Einstein’s life stands to refute this restric­tive view. He once said,the serious sci­en­tific workers are the only pro­foundly reli­gious people,” because “sci­ence can be cre­ated only by those who are thor­oughly imbued with the aspi­ra­tion toward truth and under­standing.” (Isaacson 2007, 390) He pro­foundly under­stood that the path of sci­ence is ulti­mately driven by the desire to attain a deeper con­nec­tion to Nature, to dis­cover a clearer, more com­pre­hen­sive descrip­tion of reality, to unveil the causal story. Without this pas­sionate desire sci­en­tific progress comes to a screeching halt. “When this feeling is missing, sci­ence den­i­grates into mind­less empiri­cism.” [5]

Realizing that this spir­i­tual fuel, this emo­tional fire, is required by the goals of sci­ence, Einstein embraced and fanned this flame. Because of this he grew to see reality in a way that sur­passed the vision of all those who had come before him. Consequently, he was the first to touch a deeper clarity — an expe­ri­ence that con­nected him with the divine.

“… the cosmic reli­gious expe­ri­ence is the strongest and the noblest dri­ving force behind sci­en­tific research.”

Albert Einstein [6]


To dif­fering degrees, many people have felt echoes of the deeper con­nec­tion that Einstein talked about. We expe­ri­ence them in moments scat­tered throughout our lives. The first time a child beholds the fossil of a fero­cious dinosaur, or gazes into the Trapezium of Orion’s Great Nebula through a tele­scope, a pow­erful con­nec­tion with the vast­ness of time and space is expe­ri­enced as an over­whelming feeling of awe and exhil­a­ra­tion. The first time we wit­ness the mes­mer­izing rhythm of a comb jel­ly­fish, and even when we first hear the melodic trill of a Meadowlark, our intel­lec­tual horizon expands and our intu­ition becomes charged with poten­tial to grow.


Figure 0-3 Childish Wonderment


Whenever we lose track of our phys­ical bound­aries, whether we grasp a piece of the Moon in our hands, or expe­ri­ence the ambrosial touch of love, we catch a glimpse of that deeper con­nec­tion — and a flicker of our ‘mag­nif­i­cent insignif­i­cance.’ Einstein’s ‘cosmic reli­gious feeling’ is not inher­ently lim­ited to punc­tu­ated inter­vals. As a direct link to the divine it has the poten­tial to asymp­tot­i­cally increase until it reaches a con­stant level of clarity. This is the goal: our quest is to dis­cover the ulti­mate map of reality and to meld our intu­ition with Nature’s true form. From this union we will dis­cover that phys­ical law itself is divine, and God will be unmasked as the ulti­mate man­i­fes­ta­tion of Nature’s order. The trade winds of Einstein’s efforts blow us in this direc­tion, they moti­vate us to con­tinue the quest. This journey is more than a dream to com­plete the map of Nature; it is more than an aes­thetic desire for sym­metry and math­e­mat­ical beauty. The sci­en­tific quest is about obtaining a direct link to the divine — to touch God, and to under­stand truth.

Since this quest unavoid­ably guides us into uncharted waters, our journal entries tend to seek clarity by making use of poetic ref­er­ence. As a con­se­quence, our dis­cov­eries are often con­fused (by those not on the quest) with some­thing super­nat­ural. But they are not super­nat­ural. Such a mis­con­cep­tion would be selling the expe­ri­ence of the quest, and Einstein’s ‘reli­gious’ foun­da­tion, short. Einstein was not a theist, nor was he a deist. His ‘cosmic reli­gion’ reflected his devo­tion to the task of dis­cov­ering Nature’s hidden struc­ture and his sense of ado­ra­tion and awe for the infi­nite poten­tial of that process. (Today many would con­sider him a Pantheist. [7]) He said, “I believe in Spinoza’s God who reveals him­self in the orderly har­mony of what exists, not in a God who con­cerns him­self with fates and actions of human beings.” (Dawkins 2006, 18) [8]

Einstein’s repeated use of the word God, despite his knowing that many would be unable to com­pre­hend his intended meaning, was unavoid­able. He was as inca­pable of speaking of the Cosmos in a tech­nical con­no­ta­tion as a young boy is of recounting his first kiss in monotone. His con­nec­tion to this deeper reality — to God — was the entire point. Those who miss this mes­sage, but still try to follow the path of dis­covery are, as Lee Smolin writes, “reaching for a beau­tiful flower but missing the beauty of how it is that the flower came to be.” (Smolin 2004, 40)

This quest embodies the pre­em­i­nent mys­tery. By def­i­n­i­tion, it aims to sur­pass the restric­tions that stem from fun­da­men­talism. It is the search for a vivid unfurl­ment of Nature’s secrets unfet­tered by dogma. It is the quest to attain a new form of common sense, an ele­vated intu­ition by which an inti­mate under­standing of the foun­da­tions of the mys­te­rious nat­u­rally bestows upon us a fel­low­ship with the infinite.

Einstein invited us to make his dream our uni­versal quest. He blazed a new path and made it pos­sible for all of us to take part in the great intel­lec­tual adven­ture, but like all adven­tures it has its perils. If we par­take in it we will be required to face our igno­rance. We will have to brave the thick fog of chaos and drift across a sea of con­fu­sion. Eventually we will even need to chal­lenge our most fun­da­mental beliefs about the realm we mean to under­stand. But by doing this we will be part of a time­less voyage, pur­suing an echo of the most ancient intu­ition, and actively searching for the under­lying mys­tery. This, in and of itself, is reason enough to join the quest, for it is exquis­itely human to search for a philo­soph­ical truth. As Nietzsche said, “It is time for man to set him­self a goal. It is time for man to plant the germ of his highest hope. His soil is still rich enough for it.” (Nietzsche 2005, 13)

Those con­sid­ering joining this journey should first heed one warning. Threads of an under­lying mys­tery have already been dis­cov­ered. They have revealed won­ders that chal­lenge the imag­i­na­tion and opened chasms that defy empiri­cism. But the map that con­nects all of these dis­cov­eries is still missing. We are cur­rently lost and con­fused. Because of this many people have begun to abandon the journey. They have out­right given up. They say that if what we are searching for exists, it cannot be grasped by human imag­i­na­tion. To them, addi­tional dimen­sions, uncer­tainty, wave-particle duality, and non­lo­cality are des­tined to be for­ever beyond our grasp.

This atti­tude con­tinues to grow because, for the most part, the sails of our ship have remained slack. Since the death of Einstein no one has pre­sented an idea that has been capable of bringing the mys­teries of our modern world within the reach of human intu­ition. What we are after is intel­lec­tual tran­scen­dence. The fact that we have not yet achieved it is no reason to give up. There is always a chance that an imag­i­na­tive insight will restore the wind to our sails. A new pic­ture of reality, the map we have been after, might simply be waiting for someone to chal­lenge an assump­tion that has never been chal­lenged before. If this is the case, then the con­cep­tual portal we have been searching for might be just one fathom away.

In memory of the dying wish of a great dreamer, and in honor of his intu­ition, adven­turous spirit, and pas­sionate belief in a deeper truth, now is the time to hoist our sails. Now is the time to join the voyage. It is up to us to con­tinue the quest, to brave the dimen­sional cas­cades, and to chal­lenge an old map. It is up to us to set out to dis­cover the holy grail of modern physics—the new Atlantis.


“The supreme task of the physi­cist is to arrive at those uni­versal ele­men­tary laws from which the cosomos can be built up by pure deduc­tion. There is no log­ical path to these laws; only intu­ition, resting on sym­pa­thetic under­standing of expe­ri­ence, can reach them.”

Albert Einstein [9]


In the spirit of Einstein’s intu­ition, let us launch our intel­lec­tual quest from daring shores – starting from the assump­tion that the axiomatic struc­ture of space­time is far richer than we have pre­sumed it to be. Let our voyage of dis­covery be based on careful exam­i­na­tions of the mys­teries of modern physics, cre­ative attempts to get beneath assump­tions that might be holding us back from under­standing those effects, and the process of sifting through a flurry of new ideas by checking our new axioms against the mys­teries we mean to explain. Although this book will carry us through that process by exploring the depths of a spe­cific geo­metric pro­posal (that space­time is a super­fluid with a fractal struc­ture), the end goal of our inves­ti­ga­tion will be to fill the sails of our ship with many new and imag­i­na­tive ideas, and to teach us how to realize the full power of those ideas by learning how to prop­erly trim the sails that cap­ture them.

As we explore new isles of thought we are looking for ones that give us a way to visu­alize Einstein’s curved space­time in a richer way. We are searching for a per­spec­tive that will allow us to marry the bril­liance of Einstein’s intu­ition with the para­dox­ical, and some­times non­sen­sical, visions of quantum mechanics; cre­ating an intel­li­gible, visu­al­iz­able system that facil­i­tates a deep under­standing, both onto­log­i­cally and epis­te­mo­log­i­cally, of what is actu­ally going on behind the veil. The trea­sure we seek is a geo­metric descrip­tion of space­time that can be shown to be deduc­tively respon­sible for the mys­te­rious effects of both gen­eral rel­a­tivity and quantum mechanics.

Despite the fact that we will be exploring a par­tic­ular set of assump­tions in this book about the geo­metric struc­ture of space and time (the axioms that lie at the foun­da­tion of quantum space theory) and inves­ti­gating whether or not those assump­tions carry us toward our goal of obtaining a greater under­standing, my hope is not to con­vince you beyond any rea­son­able doubt that Nature actu­ally adheres to the struc­ture pro­posed herein. Rather my hope is that this inves­ti­ga­tion encour­ages you to per­son­ally join the quest, to chal­lenge assump­tions that you have always taken for granted, to immerse your­self in the unknown, to actively par­tic­i­pate in the great mys­teries, and to devote your­self to making sense of them all. This book chron­i­cles how I have begun that quest for myself. Should it be a useful guide in your intel­lec­tual journey, I shall con­sider it a success.





[Continue to Chapter One]


From the forth­coming book:

Einstein’s Intuition

by Thad Roberts

Represented by

Sam Fleishman

Literary Artists Representatives

New York, New York



[1] Einstein to William Miller, quoted in Life mag­a­zine, May 2, 1955, in Calaprice, 261; Walter Isaacson, “Einstein,” p. 548.

[2] With fas­tid­ious resolve Columbus had to make pro­posals, and switch his alle­giance, sev­eral times. First to the duke of Anjou in France, then to the king of Portugal, the duke of Medina-Sedonia, then count of Medina-Celi, and finally to the king and queen of Spain. All of these pro­posals were denied, but after appealing their first rejec­tion, the king and queen of Spain even­tu­ally granted him three ships. Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs and Steel — The Fates of Human Societies (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2005) p. 412.

[3] In 1485 Marsilio Ficino trans­lated Plato’s works into Latin. Columbus made his first formal pro­posal to John II, King of Portugal that same year. Seven years later Columbus sailed to the Americas. Whether or not Columbus was actu­ally moti­vated by a desire to dis­cover Atlantis, or even whether or not he read Plato’s story has been debated. There simply is no reli­able record. VNevertheless, von Humboldt, “whose intel­lec­tual por­trait of Columbus remains unri­valled” notes the absence of any men­tion of Atlantis from Columbus’s writ­ings but nev­er­the­less main­tains that Columbus “took plea­sure in Solon’s ref­er­ence to Atlantis.” (von Humboldt, Historie de la géo­gra­phie du nou­veau con­ti­nent, 1:167). Pierre Vidal-Naquet and Janet Lloyd, Critical Inquiry, Vol. 18, No. 2 (Winter, 1992), “Atlantis and the Nations,” p. 309. Columbus was not very secre­tive about how he felt about gold. “Gold is the most exquisite of things,” said Christopher Columbus. “Whoever pos­sesses gold can acquire all that he desires in this world. Truly, for gold he can gain entrance for his soul into par­adise.” (New Scientist, Nov 30, 1978 ‘The gold of El Dorado’ by Christine King, p. 705.) This was not an uncommon opinion. The Spanish Conquistadores were pre­pared to commit geno­cide to fing the city of gold know as El Dorado. (Ibid.)

[4] Vikings such as Lief Eriksson had vis­ited North America five cen­turies before Columbus’ voy­ages, and the Polynesians had been trading their chickens for sweet pota­toes with Native Americans for at least a hun­dred years before Columbus (which is ver­i­fied by DNA analysis of buried chicken bones in the Americas dated between 1300 and 1424 AD that are clearly of Polynesian, not Spanish, origin). But these encoun­ters did not sig­nif­i­cantly affect European maps of the world. The enrich­ment of the European maps is Columbus’ great achieve­ment. See: Elizabeth Matisoo-Smith, University of Auckland, 2007, and Proceeding of the National Academy of Sciences, DOI: 10.1073/pnas. 0703993104.

[5] Einstein to Marice Solovina, January 1, 1951, in Solovina, 119; Walter Isaacson, “Einstein.” pp. 462-463. Einstein also said, “…I main­tain that the cosmic reli­gious feeling is the strongest and noblest motive for sci­en­tific research.” (Ideas and Opinions, 1954)

[6] From “Religion and Science,” New York Times Magazine, November 9, 1930, 1-4. Reprinted in Ideas and Opinions, 36-40; The New Quotable Einstein, Collected and edited by Alice Calaprice, (2005) p. 199.

[7] “Pantheists don’t believe in a super­nat­ural God at all, but use the word God as a non-supernatural syn­onym for Nature, the Universe, or for the law­ful­ness that gov­erns its work­ings.” Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2006) p. 18.

[8] He also said, “I have never imputed to Nature a pur­pose or a goal, or any­thing that could be under­stood as anthro­po­mor­phic. What I see in Nature is a mag­nif­i­cent struc­ture that we can com­pre­hend only very imper­fectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility. This is a gen­uinely reli­gious feeling that has nothing to do with mys­ti­cism.” (Dawkins 2006, 15)

[9] Principles of Research, address by Albert Einstein (1918), Physical Society, Berlin, for Max Planck’s six­tieth birthday.