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. – Sigmund Freud
For what the horse does under compulsion, as Simon also observes, is done without understanding and there is no beauty in it either, any more than if one should whip and spur a dancer. – Xenophon
