A few days ago a friend of mine showed me this television series Fringe, which I immediately fell for. I have been watching the first 10 episodes just in a matter of days. I must confess since my studies into cognitive science is for a mere literary scholar somewhat of a mystery and a curiosity, but also at the same time a bit alarming, I suddenly remebered dear old Edgar Allan's take on science. I would also reccomend for all who have some time to kill, or simply want to procrastinate instead, to read Poe's excellent short story: The Case of Mr. M. Valdemar while on the subject of bizarre science.
Sonnet to Science
SCIENCE, meet daughter of old time thou art,
Who alterest all things with thy piercing eyes!
Why pray'st thou thus upon the poet's heart —
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities!
How shall he love thee, or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering,
To seek for treasure in the jewell'd skies,
Albeit he soar with an undaunted wing.
Hast thou not dragg'd Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood,
To seek for shelter in some happier star,
The gentle Nais from the fountain flood.
The elfin from the greenwood and from me,
The summer's dream beneath the shrubbery.
SCIENCE, meet daughter of old time thou art,
Who alterest all things with thy piercing eyes!
Why pray'st thou thus upon the poet's heart —
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities!
How shall he love thee, or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering,
To seek for treasure in the jewell'd skies,
Albeit he soar with an undaunted wing.
Hast thou not dragg'd Diana from her car,
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood,
To seek for shelter in some happier star,
The gentle Nais from the fountain flood.
The elfin from the greenwood and from me,
The summer's dream beneath the shrubbery.
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