Mathematicians' stories (within 100 words) mathematical jokes (within 2 words) mathematical famous sayings (with author)

Mathematicians' short stories (there are many short stories, but unfortunately they all exceed 100 words):

Gauss's father works as a foreman in a tile factory. He always pays his workers every Saturday. When Gauss was three years old in the summer, when he was about to get paid, Little Gauss stood up and said, "Dad, you are mistaken." Then he said another number. It turned out that three-year-old Gauss was lying on the floor, secretly following his father to calculate who to pay. The results of recalculation proved that little Gauss was right, which made the adults standing there dumbfounded.

Two mathematical jokes

result

Teacher:

"Today we are going to learn subtraction. For example, your brother has five apples, and you took three from there. What is the result? " Tom: "As a result, as a result, he will definitely beat me up!" " "

problem solving

In math class. The teacher said, "There is a temple at the highest point of the mountain. There are five platforms on the way to the temple. There are between platforms

20 steps. How many steps do children need to climb to get to the temple? "

"All aboard!" Little Carol answered quickly.

Mathematical famous sayings

"Positive integers are created by God, and the rest are created by people."

Kroneck (A.D.1823-A.D. 189 1) was a German mathematician, number theorist and mathematical philosopher.

Germanic prime number:

Germaine's carriage stopped outside the library in the morning, and Mammy clumsily jumped out. The dim light of the street lamp sets off the silence here. She felt strange. Every night in recent years, Sophie and her companions always hear the voice of heated discussion. Her voice is always low, but she is the most stubborn one ... It's very quiet here today.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she was startled by what she saw. Sophie lay on her back on a huge table in the middle. Her big eyes looked at the high dome brightly. She was surrounded by paper full of words. Miss Germaine ... You should go home ... "

Sophie didn't speak or move, and her body seemed to be condensed into a beautiful transparent ice sculpture. Mammy approached cautiously. She remembered the night that changed the fate of France fifteen years ago. Francois returned to her room with little Sophie in her arms. She just lay in bed, quietly looking up at the starry sky outside the window. That's just her eyes, a world that no one else can enter. Tomorrow is her 28th birthday, and tonight will be remembered by future generations forever-that is the eve of the birth of Germanic prime numbers.

Professor Lagrange walked around his desk excitedly, but he didn't want to go far. Whenever he is more than five meters away from the pile of manuscript paper, he will run back like he is worried that it will disappear, and then breathe a sigh of relief-it is still there. It is so beautiful, simple and wonderful that it is unbelievable. He tested it again and again, but all his experiences and intuition told him that it was perfect, as perfect as the universe.

Lagrange's eyes are wet. Looking out of the window, it was dawn and drizzling. Sophie Germaine waited nervously downstairs, expecting the professor's opinion. It was the same girl, holding a letter sealed with a patterned ring in the drizzle, waiting for the professor by the carriage. Almighty time left no trace on her delicate little face, but they all knew that the best years of the girl had gone forever, and fewer and fewer people went to germain's house to propose marriage. Two years ago, the last gentleman said goodbye with regret and finally disappeared.

Lagrange pushed the door out, holding a lily in full bloom on his chest, and loudly said to her, "I can't give it to you anymore!" " "

"Go find C.F.Gauss!"

He immediately threw all the flowers into the sky and turned away. Those beautiful flowers fell one after another, becoming pieces of farewell stationery.

Her first real teacher, who showed her the direction nine years ago, lit up her thoughts in the dim days, and after a long swaying, it finally burned into a beautiful fire. Professor Lagrange finally gave her up. He gave Sophie everything he had.

Sophie looked at the front in confusion, and the smell of rain came on her face. It's been a long time since she walked in the rainy streets of Paris. She walked aimlessly, in a trance, and everything around her was familiar and unfamiliar. Mr. Wang took the lady's hand and boarded the carriage. Everyone passing by the newsstand today was holding newspapers.

Suddenly I heard someone calling her name, a carriage galloped in, and my father's face peeped out of the window.

"Sophie, my baby, happy birthday!"

The carriage did not slow down. When she passed by, Francois pulled her up. He carefully combed his daughter's hair with his fingers-I just received news from Lagrange's servant. The professor thinks you are one of the best mathematicians in the world now!

He laughed loudly and held her head in his arms.

Father is always happy to tell her about her achievements in mathematics now, but he will never tell her about men again, which makes Sophie feel very comfortable and uncomfortable. It took her nine years to solidify a proof that her father would always put on a wait. His expression is so proud at the moment, but he will never tell anyone that his daughter is a "mathematician". In the evening, she drank a lot of wine, went back to her room in a daze and turned off the light.

My persistent goal has been achieved, and I suddenly fell into a great emptiness. What a persistent goal I once had, but who can I pay tribute to and prove to? Intoxicated as the joy of childhood is only lit up in an instant, that is, when she lies alone on the ancient table in the library, facing the dome as if looking up at the starry sky, she knows that the final proof will come out soon ... Light and shadow are intertwined, and she seems to see Archimedes' face in a trance, and she feels that she is burning with him.

Before that, after that, all she could recall and expect were fragmented fragments and sparks of inspiration all the time, without understanding or praise. Cold fingers cover the moonlight in the gap between the curtains, and my eyes are astringent. The letter written by Lagrange to Mr. Brown nine years ago is still lying flat on the bedside table, like lily petals scattered in a puddle.

How beautiful that 19-year-old girl is On the night of her 28th birthday, I remembered the youth that permeated the manuscript paper. When I was intoxicated, deep nostalgia suddenly stung her eyes.