The journey is difficult, immense. We will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or to learn all that we hunger to know.

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.

There is nothing very 'normal' about nature.

The iron did not remember the blood it had once moved within, the phosphorous had forgot the savage brain.

Choices, more choices than we like afterward to believe, are made far backward in the innocence of childhood.

It has been asserted that we are destined to know the dark beyond the stars before we comprehend the nature of our own journey.

Lights come and go in the night sky. Men, troubled at last by the things they build, may toss in their sleep and dream bad dreams, or lie awake while the meteors whisper greenly overhead. But nowhere in all space or on a thousand worlds will there be men to share our loneliness.