The human soul, the world, the universe are laboring on to their magnificent consummation. We are not fashioned thus marvellously for nought. The straining conceptions of man, the monuments of his reason & the whole furniture of his faculties is adapted to mightier views of things than the mightiest he has yet beheld. Roll on then thou stupendous Universe in sublime incomprehensible solitude, in an unbeheld but sure path. The finger of God is pointing out your way. (R.W. Emerson)
Fashioned marvelously for nought,
I desolate the ideal thought,
Picking apart, slowly, the carcass
So carefully, languidly wrought.