When I was a kid, my mother used to feed me mashed-potato sandwiches, brussel sprout sandwiches; my brain cells were starving from lack of food. I'll eat anything. I'll eat dirt.

My brain cells are dying in their trillions.

I like nonsense; it wakes up the brain cells.

Ideas not coupled with action never become bigger than the brain cells they occupied.

I'm sort of a Walter Mitty. I got fewer brain cells than most people, so when I got friendly with cowboys, I started rodeoing. When I was calf-roping, there was something about the dirt that made me feel clean.

A meticulous virtual copy of the human brain would enable basic research on brain cells and circuits or computer-based drug trials.