Isaac Newton

My story begins on a cold Christmas Day in 1642, in the small English village of Woolsthorpe. I was born in a simple stone farmhouse, and by all accounts, I was a fragile and tiny baby. My mother often told me I was so small at birth that I could have fit inside a quart mug. Growing up, I wasn't what you would call a model student. My head was often in the clouds, or more accurately, focused on the world around me. While other boys played games, I was busy with my tools and my imagination. I loved to understand how things worked, and if I couldn't figure it out, I would try to build it myself. I spent hours crafting intricate wooden models. I built a small windmill, perfectly to scale, that could actually grind tiny grains of wheat into flour. To power it when there was no wind, I even devised a treadmill for a mouse I had trained. My neighbors were often amused by my creations, especially the water clocks and sundials I built. They were so precise that people would stop by my house just to check the time. Even then, as a young boy, I felt a deep pull to uncover the hidden rules that governed everything from a ticking clock to the sun's path across the sky. This curiosity, this need to build and to understand, was the true beginning of my life's journey.

My love for learning eventually led me to Trinity College at the University of Cambridge. It was a thrilling place, filled with more books than I could ever have imagined and minds buzzing with new ideas. I dove into my studies of mathematics and philosophy, eager to learn all I could. But in 1665, a shadow fell over England. A terrible disease, the Great Plague, began to spread, and for safety, the university had to close its doors. I packed my books and returned to the quiet solitude of my family's farm in Woolsthorpe. What seemed like a setback turned into the most productive period of my entire life. For nearly two years, I was left alone with my thoughts. One day, as I sat in the garden, I watched an apple fall from a tree. The story you may have heard about it hitting me on the head isn't quite true, but the sight of it falling sparked a universe of questions in my mind. I wondered, what is this invisible force that pulls the apple to the ground? Does this same force, gravity, extend beyond the Earth? Could it be the very thing that holds the Moon in its orbit, preventing it from flying off into space? This single question set off a chain reaction. During this quiet time, which I later called my 'annus mirabilis' or 'year of wonders,' I developed my most fundamental theories about motion, gravity, and the nature of light. I even invented a new form of mathematics, which you now know as calculus, to help me describe the universe's mechanics.

When the plague subsided and I returned to Cambridge in 1667, I brought my new ideas with me. I was soon made a professor of mathematics, a position that gave me the freedom to continue my work. I was fascinated by light and proved that white light was not pure, but was actually a mixture of all the colors of the rainbow. To study the stars more clearly, I built a new kind of telescope. Instead of using only lenses, which often created blurry, color-fringed images, mine used a curved mirror to gather and focus light. This reflecting telescope was smaller, more powerful, and produced a much sharper image. My invention was a sensation, and in 1672, it earned me an invitation to join the Royal Society of London, a prestigious group of the country's greatest scientific minds. A few years later, my friend, the astronomer Edmond Halley, came to visit me. He asked me what path a planet would take if the force of gravity from the sun decreased with the square of the distance. I immediately told him it would be an ellipse, for I had calculated it years before. He was astonished and urged me to publish my work for the world to see. It was an enormous undertaking, but in 1687, I finally published my book, 'Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica.' In it, I laid out my three laws of motion and my law of universal gravitation, showing that the same simple rules governed a falling apple on Earth and the planets moving through the heavens.

My work with the 'Principia' changed science forever, but my life's journey didn't end there. I eventually moved to London and took on a new challenge as Warden, and later Master, of the Royal Mint. It might seem like a strange job for a scientist, but I applied my methodical mind to the task of improving England's currency and catching counterfeiters who were cheating the system. I found great satisfaction in this public service. In 1705, I received one of the greatest honors of my life when Queen Anne knighted me for my contributions. From that day forward, I was known as Sir Isaac Newton. As I grew older, I had time to reflect on my discoveries. I knew that I hadn't come to my conclusions all on my own. My work was built upon the knowledge passed down by brilliant thinkers who came before me, people like Galileo and Kepler. This realization led me to say something for which I am still remembered: 'If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.' My long life of questioning and discovery came to an end in 1727, but I hope my story leaves you with an important message. The greatest discoveries often begin with the simplest questions. Never be afraid to be curious, to wonder 'why' or 'how,' because in those questions, you might just find the keys to understanding the entire universe.