How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself anything less than a god.
He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would suffice.
Any man who reads too much and uses his own brain too little falls into lazy habits of thinking.
Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!
A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it.
I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose.
The brain may be regarded as a kind of parasite of the organism, a pensioner, as it were, who dwells with the body.
The brain is like a muscle. When it is in use we feel very good. Understanding is joyous.
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.
Generally speaking, if a human being never shows anger, then I think something's wrong. He's not right in the brain.
I have always had this view about the modern education system: we pay attention to brain development, but the development of warmheartedness we take for granted.
From a scientist's perspective, to understand everything that you need to know about human beings, you only have to tinker with all the mechanical parts of genes and the brain until there are no more secrets left.