It At Once Struck Me That Under

One Hand Has Surely Worked Throughout The Universe.

For My Own Part I Would As Soon Be Descended From That Heroic Little Monkey, Who Braved His Dreaded Enemy In Order To Save The Life Of His Keeper; Or From That Old Baboon, Who, Descending From The Mountains, Carried Away In Triumph His Young Comrade From A Crowd Of Astonished Dogs-as From A Savage Who Delights To Torture His Enemies, Offers Up Bloody Sacrifices, Practices Infanticide Without Remorse, Treats His Wives Like Slaves, Knows No Decency, And Is Haunted By The Grossest Superstitions.

In The Struggle For Survival, The Fittest Win Out At The Expense Of Their Rivals Because They Succeed In Adapting Themselves Best To Their Environment.

The Voyage Of The Beagle Has Been By Far The Most Important Event In My Life And Has Determined My Whole Career; Yet It Depended On So Small A Circumstance As My Uncle Offering To Drive Me 30 Miles To Shrewsbury, Which Few Uncles Would Have Done, And On Such A Trifle As The Shape Of My Nose.

Man With All His Noble Qualities, With Sympathy Which Feels For The Most Debased, With Benevolence Which Extends Not Only To Other Men But To The Humblest Living Creature, With His God-like Intellect Which Has Penetrated Into The Movements And Constitution Of The Solar System- With All These Exalted Powers- Man Still Bears In His Bodily Frame The Indelible Stamp Of His Lowly Origin.