No Science Is Immune To The Infection

When Coleridge Tried To Define Beauty, He Returned Always To One Deep Thought; Beauty, He Said, Is Unity In Variety! Science Is Nothing Else Than The Search To Discover Unity In The Wild Variety Of Nature,-or, More Exactly, In The Variety Of Our Experience. Poetry, Painting, The Arts Are The Same Search, In Coleridge's Phrase, For Unity In Variety.

The World Is Made Up Of People Who Never Quite Get Into The First Team And Who Just Miss The Prizes At The Flower Show.

The Idea That The Universe Is Running Down Comes From A Simple Observation About Machines. Every Machine Consumes More Energy Than It Renders.

It's A Sort Of Curious Phenomenon That God Is Somehow Not Quite As Nice As The Devil; The Devil Doesn't Punish You For Behaving Well, But God Punishes You For Behaving Badly.

There Are Two Parts To The Human Dilemma. One Is The Belief That The End Justifies The Means. That Push-button Philosophy, That Deliberate Deafness To Suffering, Has Become The Monster In The War Machine. The Other Is The Betrayal Of The Human Spirit: The Assertion Of Dogma That Closes The Mind, And Turns A Nation, A Civilization, Into A Regiment Of Ghosts--obedient Ghosts Or Tortured Ghosts.