It was a reaction from the old idea of "protoplasm", a name which was a mere repository of ignorance.

Reality is the cage of those who lack imagination.

There is no great invention, from fire to flying, which has not been hailed as an insult to some god.

Would I lay down my life to save my brother? No, but I would to save two brothers or eight cousins.

And if we must educate our poets and artists in science, we must educate our masters, labour and capital, in art.

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.

It seems to me immensely unlikely that mind is a mere by-product of matter. For if my mental processes are determined wholly by the motions of atoms in my brain I have no reason to suppose that my beliefs are true. They may be sound chemically, but that does not make them sound logically. And hence I have no reason for supposing my brain to be composed of atoms.