I found a story the other day, written by Terry Bisson and entitled, They're Made Out Of Meat. It's thoroughly worth reading, even for the comic value alone.
But I quite like the implied philosophy at work here too. We human beings are, after all is considered, totally biological. We are meat and bones, who each have a sense of individual identity. We are walking and talking, thinking and feeling, structures of meat. There is nothing about us that exists on another dimension - just the meat and bones you see in the mirror and on the table of the mortician.
This is a truly compelling view of human existence. It provokes a sense of absurdity, of finitude and of urgency. We live in a universe that has no obvious purpose, and we are going to die one day, so if we are going to do anything of value we need to hurry up and do it today.
It certainly sounds better than, "Thou shalt not X, or else I will put you in my furnace!"