His arm was flapping wildly now, and he was coughing. "I don´t understand why the SF has seen fit to send me a cold," he wheezed. (The SF is the Supreme Fascist, the Number-One Guy Up There, God, who was always tormenting Erdös by hiding his glasses, stealing his Hungarian passport, or, worse yet, keeping to Himself the elegant solutions to all sort of intriguing mathematical problems). "The SF created us to enjoy our suffering" Erdös said. "The sooner we die, the sooner we defy His plans."

"The man who loved only numbers", Paul Hoffman