“Believing in the explanatory power of evolution by natural selection is like a migraine, or perhaps still more like being, as it was in the old days, a ‘wise woman’. The majority of humanity seem to have difficulty accepting that the ‘oddness’ of such a believer can be real — that is, simply an oddness and nothing else. As the migraine sufferer is suspected of malingering, and the woman who is merely literally wise, of witchcraft, so the evolutionist is always suspected of covert agendas unconnected with reality or the search for truth. In despair over the unending bemusement in friends and relatives and over the stream of articles and books that still pours forth stating Darwinism to be wrong, dead, right except for natural selection, superseded by this stale or ridiculous notion or that (all of which, evidently, the public eagerly buy and read, no matter what the competence of the writer or his knowledge of the evidence); puzzled, in short, by resistance to ideas that seem vastly more obvious and intuitive than, say, relativity or quantum mechanics, which every one accepts blithely with or without understanding, the evolution sufferer sometimes comes to believe it must be he who mistaken…. At other times the evolutionist may feel like one of the stranger ‘genetic morphs’ of his own theories — mutant carrier, say, of a fourth intellectual pigment of the retina capable of raising into clear sight patterns of nature and of the human future that are denied to the majority of his fellows, or perhaps just a person bewitched in babyhood to have revealed to him through blind sight, through such X-ray eyes, all the ravishing and foreboding beauty of the world that he now endures.”
– w.d. hamilton. “Narrow Roads of Gene Land, Vol 1.” pgs. viii-ix.