“pity this busy monster, manunkind'pity this busy monster, manunkind,not. Progress is a comfortable disease:your victim (death and life safely beyond)plays with the bigness of his littleness--- electrons deify one razorbladeinto a mountainrange; lenses extendunwish through curving wherewhen till unwishreturns on its unself. A world of madeis not a world of born --- pity poor fleshand trees, poor stars and stones, but never thisfine specimen of hypermagicalultraomnipotence. We doctors knowa hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hellof a good universe next door; let's go”
E.E. Cummings
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