The kind of beauty that we find in physical theories is of a very limited sort. It is, as far as I have been able to capture it in words, the beauty of simplicity and inevitability—the beauty of perfect structure, the beauty of everything fitting together, of nothing being changeable, of logical rigidity. It is a beauty that is spare and classic, the sort we find in the Greek tragedies. But this is not the only kind of beauty that we find in the arts. A play of Shakespeare does not have this beauty, at any rate not to the extent that some of his sonnets have. Often the director of a
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