Couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, didn't see why anyone would ask.

What does a man who made three fortunes — in indigo, saltpeter, and Sacramento gold dust — do for an encore at forty-eight?

He sailed to Tahiti, India, and Japan in 1920 and never left his cabin — so what exactly was he doing in there?

What does a composer do when the bulldozers show up before the last take is finished?

For ten years, a Chicago dishwasher kept a secret diary grading the local weatherman against reality.

Who feeds a band one cup of soybeans a day for a month and calls it rehearsal?

The man who invented vulcanized rubber spent $30,000 he didn't have to build a palace of rubber furniture inside a building made of glass.

He won the 1906 Nobel Prize for proving the brain is built from separate cells. He found out by drawing them, on an ink-stained tablecloth, for fifty years.

A Soviet surgeon coined the word transplantology, taught the man who did the first human heart transplant, and spent his afternoons sewing puppy heads onto German shepherds.

What does a 19th-century empress do in a room called the Toilette- und Turnzimmer?

Why would the man who invented the bit build a unicycle that bobbed up and down on purpose?

Issued one pencil a week, he spent thirty-five years balancing the ledgers of a universe he'd crowned himself emperor of.

He owned two half-empty suitcases, had 511 collaborators, and once won a $500 bet he immediately regretted.