I do not propose to criticize the fatuous argument I have just outlined; here, to expound is to expose.

If politics is the art of the possible, research is surely the art of the soluble. Both are immensely practical-minded affairs.

It is high time that laymen abandoned the misleading belief that scientific enquiry is a cold dispassionate enterprise, bleached of imaginative qualities, and that a scientist is a man who turns the handle of discovery; for at every level of endeavour scientific research is a passionate undertaking and the Promotion of Natural Knowledge depends above all on a sortee into what can be imagined but is not yet known.

Considered in its entirety, psychoanalysis won't do. It is an end product, moreover, like a dinosaur or a zeppelin; no better theory can ever be erected on its ruins, which will remain for ever one of the saddest and strangest of all landmarks in the history of twentieth century thought.

To deride the hope of progress is the ultimate fatuity, the last word in poverty of spirit and meanness of mind.

[A certain class of explanations in science are] analgesics that dull the ache of incomprehension without removing the cause.

Scientists who think science consists of unprejudiced data-gathering without speculation are merely cows grazing on the pasture of knowledge.