A week or so ago, on the bus home from classes, I saw this poem by Walt Whitman on the bus wall:
When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.
I'm usually not one for poetry, but I adore this one. All the stuff you learn about the universe, and how old it is, and how mind-bendingly big it is--it can make your brain hurt. It's nice to just sit and look at the stars every now and then, and just appreciate how beautiful and magical they seem.