Primitives Of Our Own Species, Even Today

Choices, More Choices Than We Like Afterward To Believe, Are Made Far Backward In The Innocence Of Childhood.

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.

There Is Nothing Very 'normal' About Nature.

Man No Longer Dreams Over A Book In Which A Soft Voice, A Constant Companion, Observes, Exhorts, Or Sighs With Him Through The Pangs Of Youth And Age. Today He Is More Likely To Sit Before A Screen And Dream The Mass Dream Which Comes From Outside.

[on Common Water.] Its Substance Reaches Everywhere; It Touches The Past And Prepares The Future; It Moves Under The Poles And Wanders Thinly In The Heights Of Air. It Can Assume Forms Of Exquisite Perfection In A Snowflake, Or Strip The Living To A Single Shining Bone Cast Up By The Sea.