Every Science Is A Mutilated

I Shut The Front Door Upon Christ And Einstein, And At The Back Door Hold Out A Welcoming Hand To Little Frogs And Periwinkles. I Believe Nothing Of My Own That I Have Ever Written. I Cannot Accept That The Products Of Minds Are Subject-matter For Beliefs.

Every Science Is A Mutilated Octopus. If Its Tentacles Were Not Clipped To Stumps, It Would Feel Its Way Into Disturbing Contacts.

Sometimes I Am A Collector Of Data, And Only A Collector, And Am Likely To Be Gross And Miserly, Piling Up Notes, Pleased With Merely Numerically Adding To My Stores.

The Ideal State Is Meekness, Or Humility, Or The Semi-invalid State Of The Old. Year After Year I Am Becoming Nobler And Nobler. If I Can Live To Be Decrepit Enough, I Shall Be A Saint.

There Is Not A Physicist In The World Who Can Perceive When A Parlor Magician Palms Off Playing-cards.