You haven’t admitted it to yourself yet, but you already know that science is all poppycock really. Useful maybe. But it’s too obviously a dead end, inert, seeking death. It desires death. Empty. Heartless. Spiritless. At best, just one way of thinking. Anal. Analysis. Taking the whole and breaking it into fragments. All scientists are the god Set! They fragment everything. I worship Isis who makes it whole again. There must be something more than this permanent desire for a kingdom of death we call a rational world picture.
– ur The Risen av Peter Whitehead