I Call That Brilliant Sequence

Certainty Ends Inquiry.

[john] Dalton Was A Man Of Regular Habits. For Fifty-seven Years He Walked Out Of Manchester Every Day; He Measured The Rainfall, The Temperature-a Singularly Monotonous Enterprise In This Climate. Of All That Mass Of Data, Nothing Whatever Came. But Of The One Searching, Almost Childlike Question About The Weights That Enter The Construction Of These Simple Molecules-out Of That Came Modern Atomic Theory. That Is The Essence Of Science: Ask An Impertinent Question, And You Are On The Way To The Pertinent Answer.

Science Is A Very Human Form Of Knowledge. We Are Always At The Brink Of The Known; We Always Feel Forward For What Is To Be Hoped. Every Judgment In Science Stands On The Edge Of Error And Is Personal. Science Is A Tribute To What We Can Know Although We Are Fallible.

The Force That Makes The Winter Grow Its Feathered Hexagons Of Snow , And Drives The Bee To Match At Home Their Calculated Honeycomb, Is Abacus And Rose Combined. An Icy Sweetness Fills My Mind , A Sense That Under Thing And Wing Lies, Taut Yet Living , Coiled, The Spring .

Man Is Not The Most Majestic Of The Creatures; Long Before The Mammals Even, The Dinosaurs Were Far More Splendid. But He Has What No Other Animal Possesses: A Jigsaw Of Faculties, Which Alone, Over Three Thousand Million Years Of Life, Made Him Creative. Every Animal Leaves Traces Of What He Was. Man Alone Leaves Traces Of What He Created.