If Man Merely Sat Back And Thought About His Impending Termination, And His Terrifying Insignificance And Aloneness In The Cosmos, He Would Surely Go Mad, Or Succumb To A Numbing Sense Of Futility. Why, He Might Ask Himself, Should He Bother To Write A Great Symphony, Or Strive To Make A Living, Or Even To Love Another, When He Is No More Than A Momentary Microbe On A Dust Mote Whirling Through The Unimaginable Immensity Of Space?
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If Man Merely Sat Back And Thought
Stanley Kubrick
If Man Merely Sat Back And Thought About His Impending Termination, And His Terrifying Insignificance And Aloneness In The Cosmos, He Would Surely Go Mad, Or Succumb To A Numbing Sense Of Futility. Why, He Might Ask Himself, Should He Bother To Write A Great Symphony, Or Strive To Make A Living, Or Even To Love Another, When He Is No More Than A Momentary Microbe On A Dust Mote Whirling Through The Unimaginable Immensity Of Space?
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