Wittgenstein shook his head grimly. 'No, Russell, that's where you're wrong. Abstract knowledge isn't innocent. It's poison: dark, violent, implacable. It isn't merely sealed from life, it terrorizes it, it preys on flesh and blood.' He strained forward, the tip of his nose quivering faintly. 'Do you know where this terrible will for knowledge will end up? Mark my words, it will end with a scarecrow in a field.'
from Terry Eagleton's Saint and Scholars