Knowledge sanctifies cruelty.

The old anatomist stole dead bodies for Knowledge.

In that sacred cause, if I could steal a living man without being found out, I would tie him on my table, and grasp my grand discovery in days, instead of months.

Where are you going?
What?
You're afraid to be in the same room with me?
A man who can talk as I do, is a man who would stick at nothing?
Is that the light in which you lower order of creatures look at us?
Look a little higher--and you will see that a man who talks as I do is a man set above you by Knowledge.

Exert yourself, and try to understand me.