Certainly Science Has Moved Forward.

Man Is Always Marveling At What He Has Blown Apart, Never At What The Universe Has Put Together, And This Is His Limitation.

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.

Out Of The Choked Devonian Waters Emerged Sight And Sound And The Music That Rolls Invisible Through The Composer's Brain. They Are There Still In The Ooze Along The Tideline, Though No One Notices. The World Is Fixed, We Say: Fish In The Sea, Birds In The Air. But In The Mangrove Swamps By The Niger, Fish Climb Trees And Ogle Uneasy Naturalists Who Try Unsuccessfully To Chase Them Back To The Water. There Are Things Still Coming Ashore.

If You Cannot Bear The Silence And The Darkness, Do Not Go There; If You Dislike Black Night And Yawning Chasms, Never Make Them Your Profession. If You Fear The Sound Of Water Hurrying Through Crevices Toward Unknown And Mysterious Destinations, Do Not Consider It. Seek Out The Sunshine. It Is A Simple Prescription. Avoid The Darkness.

The Freedom To Create Is Somehow Linked With Facility Of Access To Those Obscure Regions Below The Conscious Mind.