Scientific endeavor surely is a beautiful thing. The product if the greatest of minds continually thinking and rethinking a subject leads to profound insights into the nature of our universe, or, closer to home, our own nature.
Take many great scientists that have shaped our world in a fundamental way: Einstein, who's insights into the inner workings of our universe birthed the nuclear age; Godel, who's realization that no axiomatic statement will hold true in every case revolutionized meta-mathematics; Bacon, a scientist years ahead of his time, knocking down all the walls of his culture to create the scientific method: a structured, detailed analysis on actual physical happenings.
But what is truly beautiful about this advancement is not the fact that they have shaped our understanding of universe, but that have been discovered at all. When I gaze across the endless expanse of night sky, I do not feel awe at the enormity and mystic of it; I admire those who dared to try an explain it.
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