It sometimes strikes me that the whole of science is a piece of impudence; that nature can afford to ignore our impertinent interference. If our monkey mischief should ever reach the point of blowing up the earth by decomposing an atom, and even annihilated the sun himself, I cannot really suppose that the universe would turn a hair.

The Confessions of Aleister Crowley: An Autohagiography, Part One, Chapter 14 (p. 128), Arkana. 1989