present humanity. All the past shows us that
difficulty is no excuse for dejection, much less
for despair; else the world would have been
without the many wonders of civilization. Let
us consider the thing more seriously, therefore,
having once used our minds to the idea
that it is not impossible.

The great initial difficulty is that of fastening
the interest on that which is unseen. Yet,
this is done every day, and we have only to
observe how it is done in order to guide our
own conduct. Every inventor fastens his interest
firmly on the unseen; and it entirely
depends on the firmness of that attachment
whether he is successful or whether he fails.
The poet who looks on to his moment of
creation as that for which he lives, sees that
which is invisible and hears that which is
soundless.

Probably in this last analogy there is a
clew as to the mode by which success in this
voyage to the unknown bourn ("whence,"
indeed, "no traveller returns") is attained. It
applies also to the inventor and to all who
reach out beyond the ordinary mental and
psychical level of humanity. The clew lies in
that word "creation."