Looking at these stars suddenly dwarfed my own troubles and all the gravities of terrestrial life.

The uglier a man's legs are, the better he plays golf - it's almost a law.

In the scientific world I find just that disinterested devotion to great ends that I hope will spread at last through the entire range of human activity.

Men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise.

I do not propose to add anything to what has already been written concerning the loss of the "Lady Vain."

I stood staring, not as yet realising that this was death leaping from man to man in that little distant crowd.

No. I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as a lie--or a prophecy. Say I dreamed it in the workshop. Consider I have been speculating upon the destinies of our race until I have hatched this fiction. Treat my assertion of its truth as a mere stroke of art to enhance its interest. And taking it as a story, what do you think of it?