Our esteem for facts has not neutralized in us all religiousness. It is itself almost religious. Our scientific temper is devout.

Every way of classifying a thing is but a way of handling it for some particular purpose.

Even if matter could do every outward thing that God does, the idea of it would not work as satisfactorily, because the chief callfor a God on modern men's part is for a being who will inwardly recognize them and judge them sympathetically. Matter disappoints this craving of our ego, so God remains for most men the truer hypothesis, and indeed remains so for definite pragmatic reasons.

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.

The one who thinks over his experiences most, and weaves them into systematic relations with each other, will be the one with the best memory.

Man lives for science as well as bread.

The mind is made up by what it feeds upon.