Some Darwin Quotes

I’m still partway through The Descent of Man (specifically, the 1882 edition, available online.) It’s slow reading because I want to be sure to absorb the science… and the occasional bon mots.

I’m still partway through The Descent of Man (specifically, the 1882 edition, available online.) It’s slow reading because I want to be sure to absorb the science… and the occasional bon mot.

It has often and confidently been asserted, that man’s origin can never be known: but ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, and not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science.

Consequently we ought frankly to admit their community of descent: to take any other view, is to admit that our own structure, and that of all the animals around us, is a mere snare laid to entrap our judgment. […] It is only our natural prejudice, and that arrogance which made our forefathers declare that they were descended from demi-gods, which leads us to demur to this conclusion. But the time will before long come, when it will be thought wonderful that naturalists, who were well acquainted with the comparative structure and development of man, and other mammals, should have believed that each was the work of a separate act of creation.

He who rejects with scorn the belief that the shape of his own canines, and their occasional great development in other men, are due to our early forefathers having been provided with these formidable weapons, will probably reveal, by sneering, the line of his descent. For though he no longer intends, nor has the power, to use these teeth as weapons, he will unconsciously retract his “snarling muscles” (thus named by Sir C. Bell),46 so as to expose them ready for action, like a dog prepared to fight.

The formation of different languages and of distinct species, and the proofs that both have been developed through a gradual process, are curiously parallel. But we can trace the formation of many words further back than that of species, for we can perceive how they actually arose from the imitation of various sounds. We find in distinct languages striking homologies due to community of descent, and analogies due to a similar process of formation. The manner in which certain letters or sounds change when others change is very like correlated growth. We have in both cases the reduplication of parts, the effects of long-continued use, and so forth. The frequent presence of rudiments, both in languages and in species, is still more remarkable. The letter m in the word am, means I; so that in the expression I am, a superfluous and useless rudiment has been retained. In the spelling also of words, letters often remain as the rudiments of ancient forms of pronunciation. Languages, like organic beings, can be classed in groups under groups; and they can be classed either naturally according to descent, or artificially by other characters. Dominant languages and dialects spread widely, and lead to the gradual extinction of other tongues. A language, like a species, when once extinct, never, as Sir C. Lyell remarks, reappears. The same language never has two birth-places. Distinct languages may be crossed or blended together.

Happy Darwin Day!

To celebrate Darwin Day, I’ve decided to start reading The Descent of Man. I’ve already got The Origin of Species and The Voyage of the Beagle under my belt, and I’ve been meaning to read Descent for a long time.

Which reminds me. At that creation/evolution debate I went to a while ago a creationist audience member brought up Darwin’s alleged racism, quoting from Descent of Man:

To celebrate Darwin Day, I’ve decided to start reading The Descent of Man. I’ve already got The Origin of Species and The Voyage of the Beagle under my belt, and I’ve been meaning to read Descent for a long time.

Which reminds me. At that creation/evolution debate I went to a while ago a creationist audience member brought up Darwin’s alleged racism, quoting from Descent of Man:

At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate, and replace, the savage races throughout the world.

Seen in context, it’s clear Darwin is really making a point about the lack of intermediate forms between humans and apes. As for the exterminating savage races bit? Most white people thought in terms of a hierarchy of races, with Western Europeans at the top, and either Blacks or Australian Aborigines at the bottom. And a lot of people believed then that Blacks and Native Americans were headed for extinction. Their cultures were being ravaged, their lands were taken, the people themselves were sold into slavery or rounded up into reservations… many Whites believed it was only a matter of time. They weren’t necessarily happy about it, mind you, but they honestly thought it was inevitable.

From his writings in Voyage of the Beagle I found Darwin very open-minded and respectful for a Victorian gentleman who’d never left England before. I have a hard time imagining a racist writing something like this:

(November 15, 1835)

The common people, when working, keep the upper part of their bodies quite naked; and it is then that the Tahitians are seen to advantage. They are very tall, broad-shouldered, athletic, and well-proportioned. It has been remarked, that it requires little habit to make a dark skin more pleasing and natural to the eye of an European than his own colour. A white man bathing by the side of a Tahitian, was like a plant bleached by the gardener’s art compared with a fine dark green one growing vigorously in the open fields.

Creationists (and others) may be interested to know that Darwin was passionately anti-slavery—still a hot issue at the time. Great Britain had only abolished slavery in 1832, the first Western nation to do so (okay, France abolished it in 1794, but reinstated it again in 1802. It was abolished for the last time in 1848).

April 14, 1832. Near Rio de Janeiro.

While staying at this estate, I was very nearly being an eye-witness to one of those atrocious acts which can only take place in a slave country. Owing to a quarrel and a lawsuit, the owner was on the point of taking all the women and children from the male slaves, and selling them separately at the public auction at Rio. Interest, and not any feeling of compassion, prevented this act. Indeed, I do not believe the inhumanity of separating thirty families, who had lived together for many years, even occurred to the owner. Yet I will pledge myself, that in humanity and good feeling he was superior to the common run of men. It may be said there exists no limit to the blindness of interest and selfish habit. I may mention one very trifling anecdote, which at the time struck me more forcibly than any story of cruelty. I was crossing a ferry with a negro who was uncommonly stupid. In endeavouring to make him understand, I talked loud, and made signs, in doing which I passed my hand near his face. He, I suppose, thought I was in a passion, and was going to strike him; for instantly, with a frightened look and half-shut eyes, he dropped his hands. I shall never forget my feelings of surprise, disgust, and shame, at seeing a great powerful man afraid even to ward off a blow, directed, as he thought, at his face. This man had been trained to a degradation lower than the slavery of the most helpless animal.

So, yes. Somewhat prejudiced and chauvinistic, but also empathetic. And honest with himself and able to learn from his mistakes—as a good scientist should.

After Mauritius and South Africa, the Beagle swung by Brazil one last time before finally sailing home. Darwin shares his thoughts on the country:

On the 19th of August [1836] we finally left the shores of Brazil. I thank God, I shall never again visit a slave-country. To this day, if I hear a distant scream, it recalls with painful vividness my feelings, when passing a house near Pernambuco, I heard the most pitiable moans, and could not but suspect that some poor slave was being tortured, yet knew that I was as powerless as a child even to remonstrate. I suspected that these moans were from a tortured slave, for I was told that this was the case in another instance. Near Rio de Janeiro I lived opposite to an old lady, who kept screws to crush the fingers of her female slaves. I have stayed in a house where a young household mulatto, daily and hourly, was reviled, beaten, and persecuted enough to break the spirit of the lowest animal. I have seen a little boy, six or seven years old, struck thrice with a horse-whip (before I could interfere) on his naked head, for having handed me a glass of water not quite clean; I saw his father tremble at a mere glance from his master’s eye. These latter cruelties were witnessed by me in a Spanish colony, in which it has always been said that slaves are better treated than by the Portuguese, English, or other European nations. I have seen at Rio de Janeiro a powerful negro afraid to ward off a blow directed, as he thought, at his face. I was present when a kind-hearted man was on the point of separating forever the men, women, and little children of a large number of families who had long lived together. I will not even allude to the many heart-sickening atrocities which I authentically heard of;—nor would I have mentioned the above revolting details, had I not met with several people, so blinded by the constitutional gaiety of the negro as to speak of slavery as a tolerable evil. Such people have generally visited at the houses of the upper classes, where the domestic slaves are usually well treated, and they have not, like myself, lived amongst the lower classes. Such inquirers will ask slaves about their condition; they forget that the slave must indeed be dull who does not calculate on the chance of his answer reaching his master’s ears.

It is argued that self-interest will prevent excessive cruelty; as if self-interest protected our domestic animals, which are far less likely than degraded slaves to stir up the rage of their savage masters. It is an argument long since protested against with noble feeling, and strikingly exemplified, by the ever-illustrious Humboldt. It is often attempted to palliate slavery by comparing the state of slaves with our poorer countrymen: if the misery of our poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin; but how this bears on slavery, I cannot see; as well might the use of the thumb-screw be defended in one land, by showing that men in another land suffered from some dreadful disease. Those who look tenderly at the slave owner, and with a cold heart at the slave, never seem to put themselves into the position of the latter;—what a cheerless prospect, with not even a hope of change! picture to yourself the chance, ever hanging over you, of your wife and your little children—those objects which nature urges even the slave to call his own—being torn from you and sold like beasts to the first bidder! And these deeds are done and palliated by men who profess to love their neighbours as themselves, who believe in God, and pray that His Will be done on earth! It makes one’s blood boil, yet heart tremble, to think that we Englishmen and our American descendants, with their boastful cry of liberty, have been and are so guilty; but it is a consolation to reflect, that we at least have made a greater sacrifice than ever made by any nation, to expiate our sin.

Happy 199th birthday, Charles.

The Old Astronomer To His Pupil

I just remembered it’s National Poetry Month. Last year I posted an old poem of mine, but this year I thought I’d showcase the works of real poets. Now, I read very little poetry, but there are few poems that have made a strong impression on me.

The first is The Old Astronomer To His Pupil, written by 19th century poet Sarah Williams.

I just remembered it’s National Poetry Month. Last year I posted an old poem of mine, but this year I thought I’d showcase the works of real poets. Now, I read very little poetry, but there are few poems that have made a strong impression on me.

The first is The Old Astronomer To His Pupil, written by 19th century poet Sarah Williams. The first four stanzas are the most often quoted, and it’s the last line of the fourth stanza that guarantees its immortality. I found this a quietly moving tribute to the scientific profession. There is a deep respect for science, its virtues and rewards, but also, perhaps, the price one pays for practicing it. Mind you, I’m not aware of any scientist whose career is as lonely and thankless as this fictional astronomer’s… but, we’ll chalk it up to poetic license. Enjoy.

The Old Astronomer To His Pupil

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, — I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then till now.

Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data, for your adding as is meet;
And remember, men will scorn it, ’tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;
What, for us, are all distractions of men’s fellowship and smiles?
What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?

You may tell that German college that their honour comes too late.
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate;
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.

What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?

Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife, —
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

I have sworn, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, ’twill disturb me in my sleep.
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars, —
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

Yeti Crab

Coolest-looking crab ever.

It lives near deep-sea hydrothermal vents in the Pacific. It’s different enough from known decapods (in both physiology and genetics) to rate its own genus and possibly its own family. And it’s fuzzy.

Coolest-looking crab ever.

Yeti Crab

It lives near deep-sea hydrothermal vents in the Pacific. It’s different enough from known decapods (in both physiology and genetics) to rate its own genus and possibly its own family. And it’s fuzzy. Read more on the yeti crab (Kiwa Hirsuta) here.

The Stone Snake

This is pretty neat.

Of course, there’s a lot of speculation as to what this stone snake was actually for. Was it indeed the site of religious rituals? What kind of religion did humans have 70,000 years ago? What did they believe, and how did they express it? How much of a language did they have, to tell each other stories?

This is pretty neat.

Of course, there’s a lot of speculation as to what this stone snake was actually for. Was it indeed the site of religious rituals? What kind of religion did humans have 70,000 years ago? What did they believe, and how did they express it? How much of a language did they have, to tell each other stories? Maybe language didn’t play a big part; still, the collective art of a giant snake is pretty good evidence of abstract thinking (because you have to imagine a snake before you carve it out of the rock)—as is the sacrifice of the spear points, which seem to have been deliberately burned or blunted, because you wouldn’t make a ritual out of it unless you expected something in return: good weather, good hunting, lots of children, or just the Snake God generally smiling upon you.

Actually, that reminded me of similar happenings in the bogs of Northern Europe. I saw an exhibit on them at the Museum of Civilization in Ottawa a few years ago, including a bit on how precious objects were ritually “killed” (e.g.: a pot would have a hole punched through it) before being placed in the bogs.

And I’ll tell you something else: I’ll never look at money thrown in fountains the same way again.

DNA Songs

I’d put the Journey of Man DVD on my Xmas list, but it seems Santa didn’t think I was good enough last year. So I ordered it for myself and finally got around to watching it this cold, rainy Easter weekend.

In brief, this documentary describes an attempt to reconstruct the human family tree and trace the migrations of human populations as they left Africa fifty thousand years ago, using cutting-edge genetics—specifically, analyzing markers on the Y chromosome, taken from many thousands of men all over the planet, hence the title.

I’d put the Journey of Man DVD on my Xmas list, but it seems Santa didn’t think I was good enough last year. So I ordered it for myself and finally got around to watching it this cold, rainy Easter weekend.

In brief, this documentary describes an attempt to reconstruct the human family tree and trace the migrations of human populations as they left Africa fifty thousand years ago, using cutting-edge genetics—specifically, analyzing markers on the Y chromosome, taken from many thousands of men all over the planet, hence the title. This is ambitious. I mean, I’ve got a couple of relatives who studied the family tree, but their research only went back about three and a half centuries. But geneticist Dr. Spencer Wells (whose research this partly is, and who wrote and hosted the documentary) did more than relate a lot of facts and theories. He actually followed the paths of these migrations, enabling him, and us, to connect with these long-ago humans and understand how they were able to make this journey.

His first stop was with the San Bushmen, the oldest human branch his research has found. They’re hunter-gatherers and have been for thousands of years, using tools and skills probably not too different from their ancestors’ (though now with some metal knives and pots). Wells mentioned a quantum leap in culture between fifty and sixty thousand years ago, a relatively sudden flowering of technology, art and possibly language, that may have been one factor in some people choosing to leave Africa. But I’m guessing the droughts caused by the then-current ice age, leading to population crashes and migrations in our ancestors’ prey (and our ancestors themselves), were probably a bigger factor. Then again, what do I know? Either way, it’s almost certain that humankind’s hunting and communication skills, curiosity and adaptability, was a big factor in their survival once they left their homeland.

The first wave of migrants eventually ended up in Australia. This is where Journey of Man took us next, and we pondered the question of why they left no archeological evidence of their journey. Dr. Wells tried, and failed, to find any mention of the journey from Africa in Australian Aboriginal oral history or art (more on this later). The next stage in the journey was Central Asia. Wells and his team visited a man living in Kazakhstan, whose blood they’d sampled some years before, to tell him he’s the direct male-line descendant of the first people to move into the region 40,000 years ago. And that the genetic markers he carries in his DNA are shared with people in Europe, most of Asia, and the Americas. He looked a bit… overwhelmed. Or maybe it all went over his head. Hard to tell, really. I mean, how are you supposed to react to news like that?

After a brief trip to Pech Merle with accompanying discussion on Cro-Magnons, we were off to visit the Chukchi, nomadic reindeer herders living in northeastern Siberia. It’s a harshly beautiful land of bare snow and ice and pitiless blue sky; hard to believe people have been living there for maybe 20,000 years. But they have; the Chukchi’s survival is due not just to their amazing survival skills but also to their physical adaptations. In a cold environment, there’s evolutionary pressure to have a stouter body, with shorter limbs and extremities, to reduce surface area and limit heat loss—just as the Bushmen’s Kalahari Desert home led to tall and slim body proportions, with bare skin for efficient sweating. Evolution also explains why my European ancestors lost most of the melanin in their skin. In the higher latitudes, with Europe’s then very cold climate, having large amounts of this natural sunblock wasn’t the survival trait it used to be in Africa: with early Europeans bundled up against the cold for most of the year and the sun lower in the sky, there was less risk of skin damage but also less vitamin D being produced in their bodies. Lighter skin meant more UV rays being absorbed by the skin, which meant more vitamin D. How fascinating is that?

But beyond the science, I found Journey of Man deeply moving, because it is a story of survival against terrible odds. And humankind did more than survive: it triumphed and prospered, creating a stunning diversity of cultures and technologies with skill, courage, and probably a lot of luck. I found my perspective broadened: for example, Wells and his team had trouble crossing the border into Kazakhstan because of the war in nearby Afghanistan (the documentary was filmed in 2002). But don’t wars and borders seem terribly arbitrary and pointless when placed against a history measured in tens of thousands of years? Sounds a bit trite, maybe, but there it is. The same could be said for racial categories. I was moved almost to tears by the ending montages of smiling faces of all the people we saw in the documentary. All of them different, all of them beautifully human. All of them, you, me, and every human currently living, cousins separated by only a couple of thousand generations.

Not everybody agrees, though. As I mentioned earlier, while in Australia, Dr. Wells tried to find out if the Aborigines had any oral history mentioning the journey from Africa. One Aboriginal artist he talked to said no, that Aborigines believe they were created right here in Australia. He was quite firm in his convictions, too, saying (in so many words) that he would always believe this. Wells was diplomatic and respectful—a lot more than I would have been, in his place.

In a way, what I’d like you to think about the DNA stories we’re telling is that they are that, DNA stories. That’s our version as Europeans of how the world was populated, and where we all trace back to. That’s our songline. We use science to tell us about that because we don’t have this sense of direct continuity. Our ancestors didn’t pass down those stories. We’ve lost them, and we have to go out and find them. And we use science, which is a European way of looking at the world, to do that. You guys don’t need that.

Kudos, Spencer. I doubt I could have said that with a straight face. As much as I respect people’s rights to their faiths and traditions, I won’t play along and pretend that any culture’s mythology is as valid and useful as science in making sense of the world. Also, I’m doing pretty well without my ancestors’ songlines, thanks very much.

Near the end of the documentary Dr. Wells visited a Navajo community in Arizona, to share his research as he’d done many times before, and ran into a similar stubborn faith. What’s interesting here is that these people were clearly educated enough to understand the science—one of them said he’d already heard of Wells, which puts him one up on me… but they had their stories and were sticking to them. Even though they noticed the faces of the Central Asian people Wells visited were a mix of almost every race on the planet—a bit of African, a bit of Caucasian, a bit of East Asian—they still wouldn’t even consider that Dr. Wells’ research was correct, that maybe the Navajo’s ancestors were originally from Africa. Their only compromise (and it was a pretty smug one) was to suggest that the journey uncovered by Wells’ research and the journey described in the Navajo creation story are in fact the same event. That science was finally discovering what the Navajo people had known all along.

Which… is a bit sad. I’ve seen this kind of thing before: when faced with science, it’s tradition that has to adapt, claim common ground, back off from literalism, perform all sorts of intellectual gymnastics. But that’s a pointless struggle, because science and faith are not equivalent. They don’t speak the same language, they don’t work the same way. As the very diplomatic Dr. Wells said, “My bias as a scientist is that I like to see evidence for things.” But I don’t have to be diplomatic, so let me say that the scientific method is not a bias, it’s a tool to prevent bias. Without it, you end up with a lot of conflicting, baseless tales that stroke the listener’s ego and make one culture the centre of the universe.

With it, you get the “DNA stories.” They don’t necessarily give you comfort, a sense of purpose, or a connection with your ancestors. They don’t come with simple narratives, clear beginnings and endings; no satisfying morals or commandments from on high. But these stories describe worlds and histories far richer and more complex than any cultural myth has ever done, and can fire the imagination like nothing else. Best of all, being based on ongoing scientific research and evidence-gathering—which beats faith (no matter how sincere) and tradition (no matter how ancient)—they constantly strive towards truth. Ideally, they’ll also cause us to strive towards truth ourselves, by questioning our own biases and convictions. To quote Dr. Wells again:

Old-fashioned concepts of race are not only socially divisive, but scientifically wrong. It’s only when we’ve fully taken this on board that we can say with any conviction that the journey our ancestors launched all those years ago is complete.

Reeds in Space

I’ve been reading up on the Deep Impact mission to study the comet Tempel 1. You know, this is the sort of thing that gives me hope for the future, since it shows that humankind can be good at something besides killing each other or watching The Real American Bachelor Nanny or whatever the hell is on these days.

I’ve been reading up on the Deep Impact mission to study the comet Tempel 1. You know, this is the sort of thing that gives me hope for the future, since it shows that humankind can be good at something besides killing each other or watching The Real American Bachelor Nanny or whatever the hell is on these days. We’ve built machines for the sole purpose of flying into space to study a faraway heavenly body—which, okay, in this case involved blowing a hole in said heavenly body, but my point remains. Deep Impact, and missions like it, were executed to increase our knowledge, and that’s what I find truly inspirational: they’re pushing back the frontiers of ignorance, making the world a little bit richer and stranger than it was before. How could anyone not be excited?

The beauty and complexity of the natural world, as revealed by science, are a constant source of awe and wonder to me. And they put things in a healthy perspective, I think: beautiful and complex as it is, this uncaring universe does not revolve around us. It’s big, and we’re still crawling on a little rocky planet orbiting an unremarkable star in a pretty average galaxy—a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot as far as space is concerned. It’s a humbling thought but not a depressing one, because a universe designed on a human scale would be a cheap and boring place indeed. Besides, in the end what does it matter? Even if we’re not special to the universe, we are special to each other. My ego doesn’t need any more than that.

And there’s one thing we do have that’s missing from all the comets in the Solar system. I think Blaise Pascal, the 17th-century French philosopher, said it best:

Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him. A vapor, a drop of water suffices to kill him. But, if the universe were to crush him, man would still be more noble than that which killed him, because he knows that he dies and the advantage which the universe has over him; the universe knows nothing of this.

All our dignity consists, then, in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us endeavor, then, to think well; this is the principle of morality.

Pascal was wrong about a lot of things, but damn was he on the money about this. This is what separates us from the universe’s mindless forces, and from other animals: not just our minds, but what we choose to do with them. The quest to improve ourselves, both personally and collectively. Striving to understand instead of just believing.

Which is why I was so disgusted when I read that a Russian astrologer was suing NASA for sending the Impactor module to smash into Tempel 1, thereby disturbing the heavens and ruining her horoscopes. I still don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Assuming this woman is only a self-deluded twit and not a fraud (which seems more likely), the sheer self-centeredness and ignorance makes the blood boil. Are we supposed to believe she ever used Tempel 1 in her horoscopes, or even knew about it before it became news? Are we supposed to be sympathetic to her cheap self-absorbed fantasies of pure and pristine celestial objects that exist only for her and her clients? Are we supposed to be excited with her visions of a solar system simple enough that she can understand it? Face it: Tempel 1’s orbit has already been disrupted at least once when it passed a bit too close to Jupiter in 1881 (and probably once more since then, I’m thinking: its current orbital period is 5.5 years, down from 6.5 years after 1881). Images of Tempel 1 clearly show several impact craters. So Ms. Marina Bai can get a grip, then bite my skinny ass, followed by shutting the fuck up. If NASA’s scientific missions disturb the voodoo babble of parasite astrologers, that’s too damn bad. They’re so quick to use a planet (like Sedna) after it’s been discovered by real scientists, but oddly enough can’t make any astronomical predictions themselves.

Sadly, the astrology business will do just fine after Deep Impact. But in my less cynical moments I like to dream that one day (hopefully not too far in the future) all that will change. While astrologers sit locked in their delusions, drawing up pretty charts, mumbling only to each other and ignored by the general populace, it is the scientists, the thinkers, the real visionaries, who will reach out and touch the stars.