It is a great adventure to contemplate the universe, beyond man, to contemplate what it would be like without man, as it was in a great part of its l… - Richard Feynman

It is a great adventure to contemplate the universe, beyond man, to contemplate what it would be like without man, as it was in a great part of its long history and as it is in a great majority of places. When this objective view is finally attained, and the mystery and majesty of matter are fully appreciated, to then turn the objective eye back on man viewed as matter, to view life as part of this universal mystery of greatest depth, is to sense an experience which is very rare, and very exciting. It usually ends in laughter and a delight in the futility of trying to understand what this atom in the universe is, this thing — atoms with curiosity — that looks at itself and wonders why it wonders. Well, these scientific views end in awe and mystery, lost at the edge in uncertainty, but they appear to be so deep and so impressive that the theory that it is all arranged as a stage for God to watch man's struggle for good and evil seems inadequate.

The chance is high that the truth lies in the fashionable direction. But, on the off-chance that it is in another direction — a direction obvious from an unfashionable view of field theory — who will find it? Only someone who has sacrificed himself by teaching himself quantum electrodynamics from a peculiar and unfashionable point of view; one that he may have to invent for himself.

Anyway, Smith told me to sign some papers for the three ideas I was giving to the government to patent. Now, it’s some dopey legal thing, but when you give the patent to the government, the document you sign is not a legal document unless there’s some exchange, so the paper I signed said, “For the sum of one dollar, I, Richard P. Feynman, give this idea to the government…” I sign the paper. “Where’s my dollar?” “That’s just a formality,” he says. “We haven’t got any funds set up to give a dollar.” “You’ve got it all set up that I’m signing for the dollar,” I say. “I want my dollar!” “This is silly,” Smith protests. “No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s a legal document. You made me sign it, and I’m an honest man. If I sign something that says I got a dollar, I’ve gotta get a dollar. There’s no fooling around about it.” “All right, all right!” he says, exasperated. “I’ll give you a dollar, from my pocket!” “OK.” I take the dollar, and I realize what I’m going to do. I go down to the grocery store, and I buy a dollar’s worth — which was pretty good, then — of cookies and goodies, those chocolate goodies with marshmallow inside, a whole lot of stuff. I come back to the theoretical laboratory, and I give them out: “I got a prize, everybody! Have a cookie! I got a prize! A dollar for my patent! I got a dollar for my patent!” Everybody who had one of those patents — a lot of people had been sending them in — everybody comes down to Captain Smith: they want their dollar!

We have a habit in writing articles published in scientific journals to make the work as finished as possible, to cover all the tracks, to not worry about the blind alleys or to describe how you had the wrong idea first, and so on. So there isn't any place to publish, in a dignified manner, what you actually did in order to get to do the work.