Herbert Wells

There is no dif­fer­ence between Time and any of the three di­men­sions of Space ex­cept that our con­scious­ness moves along it

Our men­tal ex­ist­ences, which are im­ma­ter­ial and have no di­men­sions, are passing along the Time-Di­men­sion with a uni­form ve­lo­city from the cradle to the grave. Just as we should travel down if we began our ex­ist­ence fifty miles above the earth’s sur­face.”

in­can­des­cent

These figures will serve perhaps to give one some conception of the immense emptiness of space in which the drama of life goes on.

The sky was what is called a mack­erel sky—rows and rows of faint down-plumes of cloud, just tin­ted with the mid­sum­mer sun­set.

“Stop here,” said I; “you are safe here;” and I star­ted off at once for the Spot­ted Dog, for I knew the land­lord had a horse and dog cart. I ran, for I per­ceived that in a mo­ment every­one upon this side of the hill would be mov­ing. I found him in his bar, quite un­aware of what was go­ing on be­hind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talk­ing to him

This must be the be­gin­ning of the end,” he said, in­ter­rupt­ing me. “The end! The great and ter­rible day of the Lord! When men shall call upon the moun­tains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them—hide them from the face of Him that sit­teth upon the throne!”

Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that per­ish, in­tel­lects vast and cool and un­sym­path­etic, re­garded this Earth with en­vi­ous eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.

Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that per­ish, in­tel­lects vast and cool and un­sym­path­etic, re­garded this Earth with en­vi­ous eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us

Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his van­ity