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The Poetry of Science

by Robert Hunt

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Hast thou ever said to thyself, thoughtfully, It is!—heedless, in that moment, whether it were a man before thee, or a flower, or a grain of sand,—without reference, in short, to this or that particular mode or form of existence? If thou hast, indeed, attained to this, thou wilt have felt the presence of a mystery, which must have fixed thy spirit in awe and wonder.

Coleridge.

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