Luigi Galvani 1737–1798

married a woman who was perfectly happy to turn half their apartment into a laboratory including the cadavers necessary to her husband’s explorations in surgery. He also wrote articles on the ears of birds and in Latin, an anatomist, standing motionless in the middle of the road thinking that electricity must activate the blood while the muscles, themselves living Leyden jars, flowered among those who found it difficult to believe that electricity is an animal lost in a garden of showering towers and, as with all living things, a certain degree of the domestic filtered down between his hands to land in a dusting of involuntary silver across the surface of every nerve.