While Oskar is in the car with his grandma, he is trying to get the limo driver's attention: "...so I climbed into the front seat and poked the drivers shoulder until he gave me some attention. "What. Is. Your. Destination." I asked in Stephen Hawking voice." (4)
"My favorite book is A Brief History of Time, even though I haven't actually finished it, because the math is incredibly hard and Mom isn't good at helping me. One of my favorite parts is the beginning of the first chapter, where Stephen Hawking tells about a famous scientist who was giving a lecture about how the earth orbits the sun, and the sun orbits the solar system, and whatever. Then a woman in the back of the room raised her hand and said, 'What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise.' So the scientist asked her what the tortoise was standing on. And she said, 'But it's turtles all the way down!' I love that story because it shows how ignorant people can be. And also because I love tortoises." (11)
"Thank you for your letter. Because of the large volume of mail I receive, I am unable to write personal responses. Nevertheless, know that I read and save every letter, with the hope of one day being able to give each the proper responses it deserves. Until that day, Most sincerely, Stephen Hawking
I called Mom's cell. "Oskar?" "You picked up before it rang." "Is everything OK?" "I'm gonna need a laminator."" (12)
" I thought he wasnsn't going to respond, because he was such an amazing person and I was so normal." (11)
I believe that Oskar is trying to reconnect with people in this passage while talking as and about one of his favorite authors but also trying to make the driver laugh. This is partly due to his father's death and the indifference he has in the car with his mother.
"...because Stephen Hawking can't use his hands, because he has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, which I know about, unfortunately." (11)
"I flipped back through the pad of paper while I thought about what Stephen Hawking would do next." (46)
"The first letter I wrote was to Stephen Hawking. I used a stamp of Alexander Graham Bell. Dear Stephen Hawking,
Can I please be your protege? Thanks, Oscar Schell"
The picture on page 54 has Stephen Hawking in it
"I asked if he had a card for Stephen Hawking. 'Of course!' he said, and slid out a drawer, and pulled out a card. [There is then a rectangle that says 'Stephen Hawking: Astrophysics' on it]." (158)
Stephen Hawking and Oskar are both weird, awkward, genius people.
"What. Is. Your. Destination." I asked in Stephen Hawking voice."
The same letter that was on page 12 appears here again on page 200.
"Thank you for your letter. Because of the large volume of mail I receive, I am unable to write personal responses. Nevertheless, know that I read and save every letter, with the hope of one day being able to give each the proper responses it deserves. Until that day, Most sincerely, Stephen Hawking" (Page 200)
"JIMMY SNYDER. [His eyes fill with tears]
ME. And you have amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.
JIMMY SNYDER. Huh?" (pg 146)
this symbolizes Stephen Hawking because he has ALS
Stephen Hawking's letter
"Dear Oskar Schell,
I've read every letter that you've sent me these past two years. In return, I've sent you many form letters, with the hope of one day being able to give you the proper response you deserve. But the more letters you wrote to me, and the more of yourself you gave, the more daunting my task became.
I'm sitting beneath a pear tree as I dictate this to you, overlooking the orchards of a friend's estate. I've spent the past few days here, recovering from some medical treatment that has left me physically and emotionally depleted. As I moped about this morning, feeling very sorry for myself, it occurred to me, like a simple solution to an impossible problem: today is the day I've been waiting for.
You asked me in your first letter if you could be my protege. I don't know about that, but I would be happy to have you join me in Cambridge for a few days. I could introduce you to my colleagues, treat you to the best curry outside India, and show you just how boring the life of an astrophysicist can be.
You can have a bright future in the sciences, Oskar. I would be happy to do anything possible to facilitate such a path. It's wonderful to think what would happen if you put your imagination toward scientific ends.
But Oskar, intelligent people write to me all the time. In your fifth letter you asked, "What if I never stop inventing?" that question has stuck with me.
I wish I were a poet. I've never confessed that to anyone, and I'm confessing it to you, because you've given me reason to feel that I can trust you. I've spent my life observing the universe, mostly in my mind's eye. It's been a tremendously rewarding life, a wonderful life. I've been able to explore the origins of time and space with some of the great living thinkers. But I wish I were a poet.
Albert Einstein, a hero of mine, once wrote, "Our situation is the following. We are standing in front of a closed box which we cannot open."
I'm sure I don't have to tell you that the vast majority of the universe is composed of dark matter. The fragile balance depends on things we'll never be able to see, hear, smell, taste, or touch. Life itself depends on them. What's real? What isn't real? Maybe those aren't the right questions to be asking. What does life depend on?
I wish I had made things for life to depend on.
What if you never stop inventing?
Maybe you're not inventing at all.
I'm being called in for breakfast, so I'll have to end this letter here. there's more I want to tell you, and more I want to hear from you. It's a shame we live on different continents. One shame of many.
It's so beautiful at this hour. The sun is low, the shadows are long, the air is cold and clean. You won't be awake for another five hours, but I can't help feeling that we're sharing this clear and beautiful morning.
Your friend
Stephen Hawking"
"I squeezed Mr.Black's hand, and I couldn't stop inventing: the elevator cables snapping, the elevator falling, a trampoline at the bottom, us shooting back up, the roof opening like a cereal box, us flying toward parts of the universe that not even Stephen Hawking was sure about...."(244)