on 15-Feb-2017 (Wed)

In step 6, the enzyme glyceraldehyde 3-phosphate dehydrogenase couples the energetically favorable oxidation of an aldehyde to the energetically unfavorable formation of a high-energy phosphate bond. At the same time, it enables energy to be stored in NADH. The formation of the high-energy phosphate bond is driven by the oxidation reaction, and the enzyme thereby acts like the “paddle wheel” coupler

Note that the C–H bond oxi- dation energy in step 6 drives the formation of both NADH and a high-energy phosphate bond. The breakage of the high-energy bond then drives ATP forma- tion

ATP can be formed readily from ADP when a reaction intermediate is formed with a phosphate bond of higher energy than the terminal phosphate bond in ATP.

To compensate for long periods of fasting, animals store fatty acids as fat droplets composed of water-insoluble triacylglycerols (also called triglycerides).

When cells need more ATP than they can generate from the food molecules taken in from the bloodstream, they break down glycogen in a reaction that produces glucose 1-phosphate, which is rapidly converted to glucose 6-phosphate for gly- colysis

he oxidation of a gram of fat releases about twice as much energy as the oxidation of a gram of glycogen

Moreover, glycogen differs from fat in binding a great deal of water, producing a sixfold difference in the actual mass of glycogen required to store the same amount of energy as fat.

If our main fuel reservoir had to be carried as glycogen instead of fat, body weight would increase by an average of about 60 pounds

The fats in plants are triacyl-glyc- erols (triglycerides), just like the fats in animals, and differ only in the types of fatty acids that predominate

The McCullo ch-Pitts Neuron ( , ) w as an early mo del McCullo ch and Pitts 1943 of brain function.

This linear mo del (Mucollach-Piits Neuron model) could recognize tw o differen t categories of inputs b y testing whether f ( x w , ) is p ositiv e or negative. Of course, for the mo del to corresp ond to the desired definition of the categories, the w eigh ts needed to b e set correctly . These w eigh ts could b e set by the human op erator.

The adaptiv e linear elemen t (AD ALINE), whic h dates from ab out the same time, simply returned the v alue of f ( x ) itself to predict a real num ber ( Widrow and Hoff 1960 , ), and could also learn to predict these num bers from data.

The training algorithm used to adapt the weigh ts of the ADALINE w as a sp ecial case of an algorithm called sto c hastic gradien t descen t . Sligh tly mo dified versions of the sto c hastic gradien t descent algorithm remain the dominan t training algorithms for deep learning mo dels to da y .

Mo dels based on the f ( x w , ) used b y the p erceptron and ADALINE are called linear mo dels . These mo dels remain some of the most widely used machine learning mo dels, though in man y cases they are tr aine d in different wa ys than the original mo dels were trained

Linear mo dels hav e many limitations. Most famously , they cannot learn the X OR function,

m uc h of the mammalian brain might use a single algorithm to solve most of the differen t tasks that the brain solv es

The Neo cognitron ( F ukushima 1980 , ) in tro duced a p ow erful mo del architecture for pro cessing images that was inspired b y the structure of the mammalian visual system and later b ecame the basis for the mo dern conv olutional netw ork

Most neural net w orks to da y are based on a model neuron called 9.10 the rectified linear unit .

The connectionists b egan to study mo dels of cognition that could actually b e grounded in neural implemen tations ( T ouretzky and Minton 1985 , ), reviving many ideas dating back to the work of psychologist Donald Hebb in the 1940s

The central idea in connectionism is that a large num ber of simple computational units can ac hiev e in telligen t behavior when net w ork ed together.

distributed represen tation ( Hin ton et al. , 1986 ). This is the idea that each input to a system should b e represen ted b y man y features, and each feature should b e inv olved in the representation of many p ossible inputs.

back-propagation algorithm ( Rumelhart et al. , ; , ). This algorithm has w axed and w aned in p opularity 1986a LeCun 1987 but as of this writing is currently the dominant approach to training deep mo dels.

Ho c hreiter and Sc hmidh ub er 1997 ( ) in tro duced the long short-term memory or LSTM net w ork to resolve some of these difficulties. T o da y , the LSTM is widely used for many sequence mo deling tasks, including many natural language pro cessing tasks at Go ogle

A letter of credit is a letter from a bank guaranteeing that a buyer's payment to a seller will be received on time and for the correct amount. In the event that the buyer is unable to make payment on the purchase, the bank will be required to cover the full or remaining amount of the purchase. Due to the nature of international dealings, including factors such as distance, differing laws in each country, and difficulty in knowing each party personally, the use of letters of credit has become a very important aspect of international trade.

With a letter of credit what happens In the event that the buyer is unable to make payment on the purchase? the bank will be required to cover the full or remaining amount of the purchase.

Due to the nature of international dealings, including factors such as distance, differing laws in each country, and difficulty in knowing each party personally, the use of letters of credit has become a very important aspect of international trade.

Biological neurons are not esp ecially densely connected. As seen in figure , 1.10 our mac hine learning mo dels hav e had a num ber of connections p er neuron that w as within an order of magnitude of even mammalian brains for decades

Banks typically require a pledge of securities or cash as collateral for issuing a letter of credit.

Banks also collect a fee for service, typically a percentage of the size of the letter of credit.

In terms of the total n um ber of neurons, neural netw orks hav e b een astonishingly small until quite recently , as shown in figure . Since the introduction of hidden 1.11 units, artificial neural net w orks hav e doubled in size roughly every 2.4 years.

A commercial letter of credit is a direct payment method in which the issuing bank makes the payments to the beneficiary.

Unless new technologies allo w faster scaling, artificial neural netw orks will not hav e the same n um b er of neurons as the human brain un til at least the 2050s

a standby letter of credit is a secondary payment method in which the bank pays the beneficiary only when the holder cannot.

Ev en to day’s netw orks, whic h we consider quite large from a computational systems p oint of view, are smaller than the nervous system of even relativ ely primitiv e v ertebrate animals like frogs

Through this programme, the overseas buyer can open a "letter of credit" in favour of the Indian exporter and can import goods and services from India on deferred payment terms.

neural T uring mac hines ( Gra v es 2014a et al. , ) that learn to read from memory cells and write arbitrary conten t to memory cells. Suc h neural net w orks can learn simple programs from examples of desired b ehavior. F or example, they can learn to sort lists of num b ers giv en examples of scrambled and sorted sequences. This self-programming technology is in its infancy , but in the future could in principle b e applied to nearly any task

In the con text of reinforcemen t learning, an autonomous agen t must learn to p erform a task b y trial and error, without any guidance from the human op erator.

Next, w e describ e the fundamen tal goals of machine learning. W e describe how to accomplish these goals b y sp ecifying a mo del that represen ts certain b eliefs, designing a cost function that measures how well those beliefs corresp ond with realit y and using a training algorithm to minimize that cost function.

The Buddhist path has often been called a “spiritual path,” and this use of religious language can be very inspiring for some people.

What is 'Depletion'

Depletion is an accrual accounting technique used to allocate the cost of extracting natural resources such as timber, minerals and oil from the earth. Unlike depreciation and amortization, which mainly describe the deduction of expenses due to the aging of equipment and property, depletion is the actual physical depletion of natural resources by companies.

It is with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY,

The Little Prince Ponder the last moments of Gary and Mary Jane Chauncey, a couple completely devoted to their eleven-year-old daughter Andrea, who was confined to a wheelchair by cerebral palsy. The Chauncey family were passengers on an Amtrak train that crashed into a river after a barge hit and weakened a railroad bridge in Louisiana's bayou country. Thinking first of their daughter, the couple tried their best to save Andrea as water rushed into the sinking train; somehow they managed to push Andrea through a window to rescuers. Then, as the car sank beneath the water, they perished.

Andrea's story, of parents whose last heroic act is to ensure their child's survival, captures a moment of almost mythic courage. Without doubt such incidents of parental sacrifice for their progeny have been repeated countless times in human history and prehistory, and countless more in the larger course of evolution of our species. Seen from the perspective of evolutionary biologists, such parental self-sacrifice is in the service of "reproductive success" in passing on one's genes to future generations. But from the perspective of a parent making a desperate decision in a moment of crisis, it is about nothing other than love.

As an insight into the purpose and potency of emotions, this exemplary act of parental heroism testifies to the role of altruistic love—and every other emotion we feel—in human life. 3 It suggests that our deepest feelings, our passions and longings, are essential guides, and that our species owes much of its existence to their power in human affairs. That power is extraordinary: Only a potent love —the urgency of saving a cherished child—could lead a parent to override the impulse for personal survival. Seen from the intellect, their self-sacrifice was arguably irrational; seen from the heart, it was the only choice to make.

Sociobiologists point to the preeminence of heart over head at such crucial moments when they conjecture about why evolution has given emotion such a central role in the human psyche. Our emotions, they say, guide us in facing predicaments and tasks too important to leave to intellect alone —danger, painful loss, persisting toward a goal despite frustrations, bonding with a mate, building a family. Each emotion offers a distinctive readiness to act; each points us in a direction that has worked well to handle the recurring challenges of human life. 4 As these eternal situations were repeated and repeated over our evolutionary history, the survival value of our emotional repertoire was attested to by its becoming imprinted in our nerves as innate, automatic tendencies of the human heart.

A view of human nature that ignores the power of emotions is sadly shortsighted. The very name Homo sapiens, the thinking species, is misleading in light of the new appreciation and vision of the place of emotions in our lives that science now offers. As we all know from experience, when it comes to shaping our decisions and our actions, feeling counts every bit as much—and often more— than thought. We have gone too far in emphasizing the value and import of the purely rational—of what IQ measures—in human life. Intelligence can come to nothing when the emotions hold sway.

It is with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY

Only a potent love —the urgency of saving a cherished child—could lead a parent to override the impulse for personal survival. Seen from the intellect, their self-sacrifice was arguably irrational; seen from the heart, it was the only choice to make.

Each emotion offers a distinctive readiness to act; each points us in a direction that has worked well to handle the recurring challenges of human life

As some recurrent situations were repeated over and over our evolutionary history, the survival value of our emotional reactions got imprinted in our nerves as innate, automatic tendencies of the human heart.

It was a tragedy of errors. Fourteen-year-old Matilda Crabtree was just playing a practical joke on her father: she jumped out of a closet and yelled "Boo!" as her parents came home at one in the morning from visiting friends.

But Bobby Crabtree and his wife thought Matilda was staying with friends that night. Hearing noises as he entered the house, Crabtree reached for his .357 caliber pistol and went into Matilda's bedroom to investigate. When his daughter jumped from the closet, Crabtree shot her in the neck. Matilda Crabtree died twelve hours later.

One emotional legacy of evolution is the fear that mobilizes us to protect our family from danger; that impulse impelled Bobby Crabtree to get his gun and search his house for the intruder he thought was prowling there. Fear primed Crabtree to shoot before he could fully register what he was shooting at, even before he could recognize his daughter's voice. Automatic reactions of this sort have become etched in our nervous system, evolutionary biologists presume, because for a long and crucial period in human prehistory they made the difference between survival and death. Even more important, they mattered for the main task of evolution: being able to bear progeny who would carry on these very genetic predispositions—a sad irony, given the tragedy at the Crabtree household.

But while our emotions have been wise guides in the evolutionary long run, the new realities civilization presents have arisen with such rapidity that the slow march of evolution cannot keep up. Indeed, the first laws and proclamations of ethics—the Code of Hammurabi, the Ten Commandments of the Hebrews, the Edicts of Emperor Ashoka—can be read as attempts to harness, subdue, and domesticate emotional life. As Freud described in Civilization and Its Discontents, society has had to enforce from without rules meant to subdue tides of emotional excess that surge too freely within.

Despite these social constraints, passions overwhelm reason time and again. This given of human nature arises from the basic architecture of mental life. In terms of biological design for the basic neural circuitry of emotion, what we are born with is what worked best for the last 50,000 human generations, not the last 500 generations—and certainly not the last five. The slow, deliberate forces of evolution that have shaped our emotions have done their work over the course of a million years; the last 10,000 years—despite having witnessed the rapid rise of human civilization and the explosion of the human population from five million to five billion—have left little imprint on our biological templates for emotional life.

For better or for worse, our appraisal of every personal encounter and our responses to it are shaped not just by our rational judgments or our personal history, but also by our distant ancestral past. This leaves us with sometimes tragic propensities, as witness the sad events at the Crabtree household. In short, we too often confront postmodern dilemmas with an emotional repertoire tailored to the urgencies of the Pleistocene. That predicament is at the heart of my subject.

One emotional legacy of evolution is the fear that mobilizes us to protect our family from danger

Automatic reactions are rooted in our nervous system because for a long period in human prehistory they made the difference between survival and death.

While our emotions have helped evolutionary, new realities have arisen so fast in civilization that evolution cannot keep up.

Despite social constraints, passions overwhelm reason time and again.

The last 10,000 years—despite having witnessed the rapid rise of human civilization—have left little imprint on our biological templates for emotional life.

One early spring day I was driving along a highway over a mountain pass in Colorado, when a snow flurry suddenly blotted out the car a few lengths ahead of me. As I peered ahead I couldn't make out anything; the swirling snow was now a blinding whiteness. Pressing my foot on the brake, I could feel anxiety flood my body and hear the thumping of my heart.

The anxiety built to full fear: I pulled over to the side of the road, waiting for the flurry to pass. A half hour later the snow stopped, visibility returned, and I continued on my way—only to be stopped a few hundred yards down the road, where an ambulance crew was helping a passenger in a car that had rear-ended a slower car in front; the collision blocked the highway. If I had continued driving in the blinding snow, I probably would have hit them.

The caution fear forced on me that day may have saved my life. Like a rabbit frozen in terror at the hint of a passing fox—or a protomammal hiding from a marauding dinosaur—I was overtaken by an internal state that compelled me to stop, pay attention, and take heed of a coming clanger.

All emotions are, in essence, impulses to act, the instant plans for handling life that evolution has instilled in us. The very root of the word emotion is motere, the Latin verb "to move," plus the prefix "e-" to connote "move away," suggesting that a tendency to act is implicit in every emotion. That emotions lead to actions is most obvious in watching animals or children; it is only in "civilized" adults we so often find the great anomaly in the animal kingdom, emotions—root impulses to act— divorced from obvious reaction.

In our emotional repertoire each emotion plays a unique role, as revealed by their distinctive biological signatures (see Appendix A for details on "basic" emotions). With new methods to peer into the body and brain, researchers are discovering more physiological details of how each emotion prepares the body for a very different kind of response:

• With anger blood flows to the hands, making it easier to grasp a weapon or strike at a foe; heart rate increases, and a rush of hormones such as adrenaline generates a pulse of energy strong enough for vigorous action.

• With fear blood goes to the large skeletal muscles, such as in the legs, making it easier to flee— and making the face blanch as blood is shunted away from it (creating the feeling that the blood "runs cold"). At the same time, the body freezes, if only for a moment, perhaps allowing time to gauge whether hiding might be a better reaction. Circuits in the brain's emotional centers trigger a flood of hormones that put the body on general alert, making it edgy and ready for action, and attention fixates on the threat at hand, the better to evaluate what response to make.

• Among the main biological changes in happiness is an increased activity in a brain center that inhibits negative feelings and fosters an increase in available energy, and a quieting of those that generate worrisome thought. But there is no particular shift in physiology save a quiescence, which makes the body recover more quickly from the biological arousal of upsetting emotions. This configuration offers the body a general rest, as well as readiness and enthusiasm for whatever task is at hand and for striving toward a great variety of goals.

• Love, tender feelings, and sexual satisfaction entail parasympathetic arousal—the physiological opposite of the "fight-or-flight" mobilization shared by fear and anger. The parasympathetic pattern, dubbed the "relaxation response," is a body wide set of reactions that generates a general state of calm and contentment, facilitating cooperation.

• The lifting of the eyebrows in surprise allows the taking in of a larger visual sweep and also

permits more light to strike the retina. This offers more information about the unexpected event, making it easier to figure o

...

All emotions are, in essence, impulses to act, the instant plans for handling life that evolution has instilled in us.

The root of the word emotion is motere, the Latin verb "to move," this means a tendency to act is implicit in every emotion.

Only in "civilized" adults we can find an anomaly in which, emotions—root impulses to act— are divorced from their obvious reaction.

With anger blood flows to the hands, making it easier to grasp a weapon or strike at a foe; heart rate increases, and a rush of hormones such as adrenaline generates a pulse of energy strong enough for vigorous action.

With fear blood goes to the large skeletal muscles, such as in the legs, making it easier to flee— and making the face blanch as blood is shunted away from it (creating the feeling that the blood "runs cold"). At the same time, the body freezes, if only for a moment, perhaps allowing time to gauge whether hiding might be a better reaction. Circuits in the brain's emotional centers trigger a flood of hormones that put the body on general alert, making it edgy and ready for action, and attention fixates on the threat at hand, the better to evaluate what response to make.

Among the main biological changes in happiness is an increased activity in a brain center that inhibits negative feelings and fosters an increase in available energy, and a quieting of those that generate worrisome thought. But there is no particular shift in physiology save a quiescence, which makes the body recover more quickly from the biological arousal of upsetting emotions. This configuration offers the body a general rest, as well as readiness and enthusiasm for whatever task is at hand and for striving toward a great variety of goals.

Love, tender feelings, and sexual satisfaction entail parasympathetic arousal—the physiological opposite of the "fight-or-flight" mobilization shared by fear and anger. The parasympathetic pattern, dubbed the "relaxation response," is a body wide set of reactions that generates a general state of calm and contentment, facilitating cooperation.

The lifting of the eyebrows in surprise allows the taking in of a larger visual sweep and also

permits more light to strike the retina. This offers more information about the unexpected event, making it easier to figure out exactly what is going on and concoct the best plan for action.

Sadness brings a drop in energy and enthusiasm for life's activities, particularly diversions and pleasures, and, as it deepens and approaches depression, slows the body's metabolism.

This introspective withdrawal creates the opportunity to mourn a loss or frustrated hope, grasp its consequences for one's life, and, as energy returns, plan new beginnings.

With which emotion does this happen?

A friend was telling me about her divorce, a painful separation. Her husband had fallen in love with a younger woman at work, and suddenly announced he was leaving to live with the other woman. Months of bitter wrangling over house, money, and custody of the children followed. Now, some months later, she was saying that her independence was appealing to her, that she was happy to be on her own. "I just don't think about him anymore—I really don't care," she said. But as she said it, her eyes momentarily welled up with tears.

That moment of teary eyes could easily pass unnoted. But the empathic understanding that someone's watering eyes means she is sad despite her words to the contrary is an act of comprehending just as surely as is distilling meaning from words on a printed page. One is an act of the emotional mind, the other of the rational mind. In a very real sense we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels.

These two fundamentally different ways of knowing interact to construct our mental life. One, the rational mind, is the mode of comprehension we are typically conscious of: more prominent in awareness, thoughtful, able to ponder and reflect. But alongside that there is another system of knowing: impulsive and powerful, if sometimes illogical—the emotional mind. (For a more detailed description of the characteristics of the emotional mind, see Appendix B.)

The emotional/rational dichotomy approximates the folk (distinction between "heart" and "head"; knowing something is right "in your heart" is a different order of conviction—somehow a deeper kind of certainty—than thinking so with your rational mind. There is a steady gradient in the ratio of rational-to-emotional control over the mind; the more intense the feeling, the more dominant the emotional mind becomes—and the more ineffectual the rational. This is an arrangement that seems to stem from eons of evolutionary advantage to having emotions and intuitions guide our instantaneous response in situations where our lives are in peril—and where pausing to think over what to do could cost us our lives.

These two minds, the emotional and the rational, operate in tight harmony for the most part, intertwining their very different ways of knowing to guide us through the world. Ordinarily there is a balance between emotional and rational minds, with emotion feeding into and informing the operations of the rational mind, and the rational mind refining and sometimes vetoing the inputs of the emotions. Still, the emotional and rational minds are semi-independent faculties, each, as we shall see, reflecting the operation of distinct, but interconnected, circuitry in the brain.

In many or most moments these minds are exquisitely coordinated; feelings are essential to thought, thought to feeling. But when passions surge the balance tips: it is the emotional mind that captures the upper hand, swamping the rational mind. The sixteenth-century humanist Erasmus of Rotterdam wrote in a satirical vein of this perennial tension between reason and emotion:

Jupiter has bestowed far more passion than reason—you could calculate the ratio as 24 to one. He set up two raging tyrants in opposition to Reason's solitary power: anger and lust. How far Reason can prevail against the combined forces of these two the common life of man makes quite clear. Reason does the only thing she can and shouts herself hoarse, repeating formulas of virtue, while the other two bid her go hang herself, and are increasingly noisy and offensive, until at last their Ruler is exhausted, gives up, and surrenders.

In a very real sense we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels.

The more intense the feeling, the more dominant the emotional mind becomes—and the more ineffectual the rational.

Emotional thinking beats rational thinking because of eons of guiding our instantaneous response when pausing to think could cost us our lives

When passions surge, it is the emotional mind that captures the upper hand, swamping the rational mind

To better grasp the potent hold of the emotions on the thinking mind—and why feeling and reason are so readily at war—consider how the brain evolved. Human brains, with their three pounds or so of cells and neural juices, are about triple the size of those in our nearest cousins in evolution, the nonhuman primates. Over millions of years of evolution, the brain has grown from the bottom up, with its higher centers developing as elaborations of lower, more ancient parts. (The growth of the brain in the human embryo roughly retraces this evolutionary course.)

The most primitive part of the brain, shared with all species that have more than a minimal nervous system, is the brainstem surrounding the top of the spinal cord. This root brain regulates basic life functions like breathing and the metabolism of the body's other organs, as well as controlling stereotyped reactions and movements. This primitive brain cannot be said to think or learn; rather it is a set of preprogrammed regulators that keep the body running as it should and reacting in a way that ensures survival. This brain reigned supreme in the Age of the Reptiles: Picture a snake hissing to signal the threat of an attack.

From the most primitive root, the brainstem, emerged the emotional centers. Millions of years later in evolution, from these emotional areas evolved the thinking brain or "neocortex," the great bulb of convoluted tissues that make up the top layers. The fact that the thinking brain grew from the emotional reveals much about the relationship of thought to feeling; there was an emotional brain long before there was a rational one.

The most ancient root of our emotional life is in the sense of smell, or, more precisely, in the olfactory lobe, the cells that take in and analyze smell. Every living entity, be it nutritious, poisonous, sexual partner, predator or prey, has a distinctive molecular signature that can be carried in the wind. In those primitive times smell commended itself as a paramount sense for survival.

From the olfactory lobe the ancient centers for emotion began to evolve, eventually growing large enough to encircle the top of the brainstem. In its rudimentary stages, the olfactory center was composed of little more than thin layers of neurons gathered to analyze smell. One layer of cells took in what was smelled and sorted it out into the relevant categories: edible or toxic, sexually available, enemy or meal. A second layer of cells sent reflexive messages throughout the nervous system telling the body what to do: bite, spit, approach, flee, chase.10

With the arrival of the first mammals came new, key layers of the emotional brain. These, surrounding the brainstem, look roughly like a bagel with a bite taken out at the bottom where the brainstem nestles into them. Because this part of the brain rings and borders the brainstem, it was called the "limbic" system, from "limbus," the Latin word for "ring." This new neural territory added emotions proper to the brain's repertoire.11 When we are in the grip of craving or fury, head-over- heels in love or recoiling in dread, it is the limbic system that has us in its grip.

As it evolved, the limbic system refined two powerful tools: learning and memory. These revolutionary advances allowed an animal to be much smarter in its choices for survival, and to fine- tune its responses to adapt to changing demands rather than having invariable and automatic reactions. If a food led to sickness, it could be avoided next time. Decisions like knowing what to eat and what to spurn were still determined largely through smell; the connections between the olfactory bulb and the limbic system now took on the tasks of making distinctions among smells and recognizing them, comparing a present smell with past ones, and so discriminating good from bad. This was done by the "rhinencephalon," literally, the "nose brain," a part of the limbic wiring, and the rudimentary basis of the neocort

...

The most ancient root of our emotional life is in the sense of smell

Because this part of the brain rings and borders the brainstem, it was called the "limbic" system, from "limbus," the Latin word for "ring.

When we are in the grip of craving or fury, head-over- heels in love or recoiling in dread, it is the limbic system that has us in its grip.

As it evolved, the limbic system refined two powerful tools: learning and memory.

Learning and memory allowed an animal to be much smarter in its choices for survival, and to fine-tune its responses to adapt to changing demands rather than having invariable and automatic reactions.

The olfactory bulb and the limbic system make distinctions among smells and recognizing them, and so discriminating good from bad.

This was done by the "rhinencephalon," literally, the "nose brain," a part of the limbic wiring, and the rudimentary basis of the neocortex, the thinking brain.

The neocortex is the seat of thought; it contains the centers that put together and comprehend what the senses perceive.