In The Fields Of Observation Chance Favors

God Grant That By My Persevering Labours I May Bring A Little Stone To The Frail And Ill-assured Edifice Of Our Knowledge Of Those Deep Mysteries Of Life And Death Where All Our Intellects Have So Lamentably Failed.

If It Is A Terrifying Thought That Life Is At The Mercy Of The Multiplication Of These Minute Bodies [microbes], It Is A Consoling Hope That Science Will Not Always Remain Powerless Before Such Enemies.

Posterity Will One Day Laugh At The Sublime Foolishness Of The Modern Materialistic Philosophy. The More I Study Nature, The More I Stand Amazed At The Work Of The Creator. I Pray While I Am Engaged At My Work In The Laboratory.

The More I Know, The More Nearly Is My Faith That Of The Breton Peasant. Could I But Know All I Would Have The Faith Of A Breton Peasant Woman.

There Are Two Men In Each One Of Us: The Scientist, He Who Starts With A Clear Field And Desires To Rise To The Knowledge Of Nature Through Observations, Experimentation And Reasoning, And The Man Of Sentiment, The Man Of Belief, The Man Who Mourns His Dead Children, And Who Cannot, Alas, Prove That He Will See Them Again, But Who Believes That He Will, And Lives In The Hope – The Man Who Will Not Die Like A Vibrio, But Who Feels That The Force That Is Within Him Cannot Die.