After some failures trying to prevent the end of the world the normal way, the thought has occurred to our protagonists that the only Power great enough to prevent the end of the world would be a demon bound to implement a ‘nice’ superpowerful cognitive binding, or at least a cognitive binding that carries out intuitively specified instructions well enough to shut down all attempts at summoning non-value-aligned cognitive demons.

“There must have been a lot of blood,” as T. P. Wiseman crisply remarks in Remembering the Roman People.

Upon closer examination, the soil-caked cranium contained an unusual yellow substance that turned out to be Britain’s oldest surviving human brain.

Not to be confused with that state of political bigotry, mental obstinacy, financial security, sensual atrophy, emotional penury, and spiritual collapse which, under the name “maturity,” animated lives around him, it might be said that Reverend Gwyon had reached maturity.

If somebody were to put a gun to the head of the author of this book and ask him to name the single most important concept in brain science, he would say it is the concept of a neuron.

He wore, as a protection from the rain, a hat which had lost – in who knows what dim hintermath of time – the usual attributes of shape, colour and size, and those more subtle race-memory associations which identify hats as hats, and now resembled some obscure natural growth, some moss or sponge or fungus, which has attached itself to a host.

A few years ago, I heard a film composer tell of a director’s reaction to his labors: “O.K., now make it twenty per cent more Cuban.”

If you have a crush on Lyndon B. Johnson, then you are going to love this photo of his gall bladder scar!

I first guided MMMMMMMMMMMM to room #1.

I have two other options, “test with face” and “test with no face.” Um…..I’ll test with face.