A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him
'real life is infinitely stranger than anything we could invent. We would not dare invent things, which are commonplace things of life. If we could go out of that window, fly over this great city, gently remove the roofs of houses and look at the peculiar things that are happening, the strange coincidences, the plans, and the wonderful chains of events, we would discover things much more interesting than in books.'
