He treated stubborn problems as knots in the question rather than facts awaiting discovery — and beat the village children he was hired to teach.
He turned chemistry into an accounting problem and rewrote its vocabulary — on an income collected from the salt tax.
He took no one's word — not Ptolemy's, not Galen's, not his own eyes'. Then built the apparatus that would settle it.
The count who wrote the world's greatest novels, then gave everything away chasing one question: what makes a life worth living?