I Will Give Up My Belief In

There Are 400,000 Species Of Beetles On This Planet, But Only 8,000 Species Of Mammals.

Teleology Is Like A Mistress To A Biologist: He Cannot Live Without Her But He's Unwilling To Be Seen With Her In Public.

You Can Analyze A Glass Of Water And You're Left With A Lot Of Chemical Components, But Nothing You Can Drink.

I Have Tried To Show Why I Believe That The Biologist Is The Most Romantic Figure On Earth At The Present Day. At First Sight He Seems To Be Just A Poor Little Scrubby Underpaid Man, Groping Blindly Amid The Mazes Of The Ultra-microscopic, Engaging In Bitter And Lifelong Quarrels Over The Nephridia Of Flatworms, Waking Perhaps One Morning To Find That Someone Whose Name He Has Never Heard Has Demolished By A Few Crucial Experiments The Work Which He Had Hoped Would Render Him Immortal.

I Suppose The Process Of Acceptance Will Pass Through The Usual Four Stages: (i) This Is Worthless Nonsense; (ii) This Is An Interesting, But Perverse, Point Of View; (iii) This Is True, But Quite Unimportant; (iv) I Always Said So.