The Universe (n.) is not a house: from a house we infer a builder with certainty; from the universe, at most a guess.
The Universe (n.) in its embryo-state cannot be judged from the finished world, any more than the foetus from the grown animal.
The Universe (n.) remains, in appearance, the same, though every individual perpetually changes, and every part of every individual.
The Universe (n.) seems never to have received the last hand of its maker: so unfinished is every part, so coarse the strokes.
The Universe (n.) could have been built on many plans, matter being indifferent to every motion and the soul a blank page to every perception — strange that none should be better than this one.