hottest stars, it is about a hand's-breadth
compared to a mile.

Life processes cease, but chemical and mechanical processes go on
forever. Life is as fugitive and uncertain as the bow in the clouds,
and, like the bow in the clouds, is confined to a limited range of
conditions. Like the bow, also, it is a perpetual creation, a constant
becoming, and its source is not in the matter through which it is
manifested, though inseparable from it. The material substance of life,
like the rain-drops, is in perpetual flux and change; it hangs always on
the verge of dissolution and vanishes when the material conditions fail,
to be renewed again when they return. We know, do we not? that life is
as literally dependent upon the sun as is the rainbow, and equally
dependent upon the material elements; but whether the physical
conditions sum up the whole truth about it, as they do with the bow, is
the insoluble question. Science says "Yes," but our philosophy and our
religion say "No." The poets and the prophets say "No," and our hopes
and aspirations say "No."

II

Where, then, shall we look for the key to this mysterious thing we call
life? Modern biochemistry will not listen to the old notion of a vital
force--that is only a metaphysical will-o'-the-wisp that leaves us
floundering in the quagmire. If I question the forces about me, what
answer do I get? Molecular attraction and repulsion seem to say, "It is
not in us; we are as active in the clod as in the flower." The four
principal elements--oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and carbon--say, "It is
not in us, because we are from all eternity, and life is not; we form
only its physical basis." Warmth and moisture say, "It is not in us; we
are only its faithful nurses and handmaidens." The sun says: "It is not
in me; I shine on dead worlds as well. I but quicken life after it is
planted." The stars say, "It is not in us; we have seen life come and go
among myriads of worlds for untold ages." No questioning of the heavens
above nor of the earth below can reveal to us the secret we are in quest
of.

I can fancy brute matter saying to life: "You tarry with me at your
peril. You will always be on the firing-line of my blind, contending
forces; they will respect you not; you must take your chances amid my
flying missiles. My forces go their eternal round without variableness
or shadow of turning, and woe to you if you cross their courses. You
may bring all your gods with you--gods of l