In The Days Of The Frost Seek

We Cannot Pluck A Flower Witout Disturbing A Star.

This Is The Most Enormous Extension Of Vision Of Which Life Is Capable: The Projection Of Itself Into Other Lives. This Is The Lonely, Magnificent Power Of Humanity. It Is . . . The Supreme Epitome Of The Reaching Out.

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.

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.

Many Of Us Who Walk To And Fro Upon Our Usual Tasks Are Prisoners Drawing Mental Maps Of Escape.