Note, to-day, an instructive, curious spectacle and conflict. Science, (twin, in its fields, of Democracy in its)—Science, testing absolutely all thoughts, all works, has already burst well upon the world—a sun, mounting, most illuminating, most glorious—surely never again to set. But against it, deeply entrench'd, holding possession, yet remains, (not only through the churches and schools, but by imaginative literature, and unregenerate poetry,) the fossil theology of the mythic-materialistic, superstitious, untaught and credulous, fable-loving, primitive ages of humanity.

There's no doubt that I've deserved my enemies, but I don't think I've deserved my friends.

All is procession; the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.

Are you the new person drawn toward me?

Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.

From this hour, freedom! Going where I like, my own master.

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.