Life, Unlike The Inanimate, Will

One (practitioner Of Science) Is The Educated Man Who Still Has A Controlled Sense Of Wonder Before The Universal Mystery, Whether It Hides In A Snail's Eye Or Within The Light That Impinges On That Delicate Organ.

A Man Who Has Once Looked With The Archaeological Eye Will Never See Quite Normally. He Will Be Wounded By What Other Men Call Trifles. It Is Possible To Refine The Sense Of Time Until An Old Shoe In The Bunch Grass Or A Pile Of Nineteenth Century Beer Bottles In An Abandoned Mining Town Tolls In One's Head Like A Hall Clock.

It Is Frequently The Tragedy Of The Great Artist, As It Is Of The Great Scientist, That He Frightens The Ordinary Man.

If It Should Turn Out That We Have Mishandled Our Own Lives As Several Civilizations Before Us Have Done, It Seems A Pity That We Should Involve The Violet And The Tree Frog In Our Departure.

This Is The Most Enormous Extension Of Vision Of Which Life Is Capable: The Projection Of Itself Into Other Lives. This Is The Lonely, Magnificent Power Of Humanity. It Is . . . The Supreme Epitome Of The Reaching Out.