Eric Betzig
The decades following the mid-twentieth century saw rapid advances in optical science, as researchers pushed hard against the physical limits that had long constrained what a microscope could reveal. Eric Betzig, born on January 13, 1960, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, came of age in that environment and went on to work across both physics and chemistry.
Betzig attended Pioneer High School before going on to Cornell University and the Cornell University College of Engineering, and later to the California Institute of Technology. His education traced a path through some of the more rigorous technical programs available in the United States, and his subsequent career as both a physicist and a chemist reflected that foundation. The two disciplines together shaped the kind of work he would become known for producing.
The honors Betzig received give a clearer picture of how his work was received. He was awarded the William O. Baker Award for Initiatives in Research, a prize associated with early-career contributions of particular promise. He also received the Newcomb Cleveland Prize, which is given by the American Association for the Advancement of Science for an outstanding paper published in the journal Science. These recognitions came before the most prominent acknowledgment of his career arrived.
That acknowledgment was the Nobel Prize in Chemistry, which confirmed the significance of what Betzig had contributed to his fields. For a researcher who trained and worked as both a physicist and a chemist, the prize in Chemistry was a fitting marker of where his efforts had landed. It remains the most concrete measure available of how the scientific establishment assessed his contributions, and it anchors his place in the record of American science in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.
Quotes by Eric Betzig

The eventual goal is to marry all of my work together to make a high-speed, high-resolution, low-impact tool that can look deep inside biological systems.

Sometimes I make an analogy that each scientific paper is like putting out another record. And some people have careers that are nothing but a one-hit wonder. And then there are people who are only appreciated by aficionados but largely forgotten by the wider community.

The question was, 'Is there a way of minimizing the amount of damage you're doing so that you can then study cells in a physiological manner while also studying them at high spatial and temporal resolution for a long time?'

In my opinion, the only real asset one has is one's reputation, right? I mean, any company and institution can go belly up at any time. But if you have a good reputation, you know, you can usually find somebody who can - who thinks they can use what you have to offer.

I was born in 1960 and can still tell you the name of every astronaut from Mercury to Apollo. If I had a chance, I'd love to go into space on one of the privately developed space crafts.

Frankly, I guess, I don't really understand why people, why so many people, are so risk averse. You know, there's always ways to wiggle your way out of any situation if you're motivated enough.

You need a continuous picture of how things are evolving, and not a slow series of snapshots where you don't know how frame A is related to frame B.

You get so tied up with the minutiae of the day-to-day, there's never a chance to sit back and let your subconscious run wild.

What was shocking to us was that by spreading the energy out across seven beams instead of one, the phototoxicity went way down.
