The moon, the moon, so silver and cold, Her fickle temper has oft been told, Now shade--now bright and sunny-- But of all the lunar things that change, The one that shows most fickle and strange, And takes the most eccentric range, Is the moon--so called--of honey!

Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below, Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow, Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?

No sun - no moon! / No morn - no noon - / No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day -

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, / The moping owl does to the moon complain.

What can we gain by sailing to the moon if we are not able to cross the abyss that separates us from ourselves? This is the most important of all voyages of discovery, and without it, all the rest are not only useless, but disastrous...

We have tried to give the highest priority to the research that we need to get to the moon and Mars and beyond. Is the science scaled back? You bet it is. But is it no science at all? No, we're still trying to utilize this station all we can up there.