Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs, he is truly magnificent; but those organs have not grown on him and they still give him much trouble at times.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Man is an intelligence in servitude to his organs.
Is God a man with two arms and legs like me? Does He have eyes, a head? Does He have bowels? Well I do, and that makes me more wonderful than He is!
There is a strange kind of human being in whom there is an eternal struggle between body and soul, animal and god, for dominance. In all great men this mixture is striking, and in none more so than in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
I sometimes think that God in creating man somewhat overestimated his ability.
It is true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man and the security of a god.
I think that God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.
The divine is perhaps that quality in man which permits him to endure the lack of God.
The difficulty of finding organs suitable for transplantation on man must be met.
It is a great thing to have a big brain, a fertile imagination, grand ideals, but the man with these, bereft of a good backbone, is sure to serve no useful end.
Man is a mind betrayed, not served, by his organs.