Quotes About Nebulae

We have astronomy here under our feet; the stars are resident with us ...27

Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. —Lawrence M. Krauss, physicist

There were aging orange embers, blue dwarfs, twin yellow giants. There were collapsing neutron stars, and angry supernovae that hissed into the icy emptiness. There were borning stars, breathing stars, pulsing stars, and dying stars. There was the Death Star. At

FIGURE 3.1 Stars

The stars look the same from night to night. Nebulae and galaxies are dully immutable, maintaining the same overall appearance for thousands or millions of years. Indeed, only the sun, moon and planets - together with the occasional comet, asteroid or meteor - seem dynamic.

I don't look stoned?" My heart began to pound. The classic aim of a pothead is always to look perfectly straight—and if possible operate complicated machinery—while immense shrieking nebulae are coming asunder in his brain. To fail at this—to be found out—carries a mysterious burden of anxiety and shame. "How are my eyes?

Wolf-Rayet stars

His eyes are blue, and blue eyes up close are a celestial phenomenon: nebulae as seen through telescopes, the light of unnamed stars diffused through dusts and elements and endlessness. Layers of light. Blue eyes are starlight.

In those years, that marvelous mess of constellations, nebulae, interstellar gaps and all the rest of the awesome show provoked in me an indescribable sense of nausea, of utter panic, as if I were hanging from earth upside down on the brink of infinite space, with terrestrial gravity still holding me by the heels but about to release me any moment

Farewell, false love, I took you for The woman that I lost last year Forever as I think: I loved her but I will not see Her any more in Germany. O Milky Way, sister in whiteness To Canaan's rivers and the bright Bodies of lovers drowned, Can we follow toilsomely Your path to other nebulae?

O Milky Way, sister in whitenessTo Canaan's rivers and the brightBodies of lovers drowned,Can we follow toilsomelyYour path to other nebulae?

We find them smaller and fainter, in constantly increasing numbers, and we know that we are reaching into space, farther and farther, until, with the faintest nebulae that can be detected with the greatest telescopes, we arrive at the frontier of the known universe.

Why do we so dread to think of our species as a species? Can it be that we are afraid of what we may find? That human self-love would suffer too much and that the image of God might prove to be a mask? This could be only partly true, for if we could cease to wear the image of a kindly, bearded, interstellar dictator, we might find ourselves true images of his kingdom, our eves the nebulae, and universes in our cells.