A fairly bright boy is far more intelligent and far better company than the average adult.

If human beings could be propagated by cutting, like apple trees, aristocracy would be biologically sound.

Teleology is like a mistress to a biologist: he cannot live without her but he's unwilling to be seen with her in public.

Science is as yet in its infancy, and we can foretell little of the future save that the thing that has not been is the thing that shall be; that no beliefs, no values, no institutions are safe.

It wasn't until I had performed by first autopsy that I realized that even the drabest human exteriors could contain the most beautiful viscera. After that, I would console myself for the plainness of my fellow bus-riders by dissecting them in my imagination.

This is my prediction for the future: Whatever hasn't happened will happen, and no one will be safe from it.

I have come to the conclusion that my subjective account of my motivation is largely mythical on almost all occasions. I don't know why I do things.