Almost All People Are Hypnotics.

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

My Liveliest Interest Is Not So Much In Things, As In Relations Of Things. I Have Spent Much Time Thinking About The Alleged Pseudo-relations That Are Called Coincidences. What If Some Of Them Should Not Be Coincidences?

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

[wise Men] Have Tried To Understand Our State Of Being, By Grasping At Its Stars, Or Its Arts, Or Its Economics. But, If There Is An Underlying Oneness Of All Things, It Does Not Matter Where We Begin, Whether With Stars, Or Laws Of Supply And Demand, Or Frogs, Or Napoleon Bonaparte. One Measures A Circle, Beginning Anywhere.

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.