Valentine: Well, it is odd. Heat goes to cold. It's a one-way street. Your tea will end up at room temperature. What's happening to your tea is happening to everything everywhere. The sun and the stars. It'll take a while but we're all going to end up at room temperature. When your hermit set up shop nobody understood this. But let's say you're right, in 18-whatever nobody knew more about heat than this scribbling nutter living in a hovel in Derbyshire.
Hannah: He was at Cambridge--a scientist.
Valentine: Say he was. I'm not arguing. And the girl was his pupil, she had a genius for her tutor.
Hannah: Or the other way round.
Valentine: Anything you like. But not this! Whatever he thought he was doing to save the world with good English algebra it wasn't this!
Hannah: Why? Because they didn't have calculators?
Valentine: No. Yes. Because there's an order things can't happen in. You can't open a door till there's a house.
Hannah: I thought that's what genius was.
Valentine: Only for lunatics and poets.
'I had a dream which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air. . .'