When he was a boy he too dreamed of white ships and new worlds, new life --
though he could not know then what "new life" would really mean, much less imagine
that it might mean him. In a thousand years or so he begins to understand.
A foolish humanism is the hobgoblin of little minds.
Indeed none of them knew what it meant, not Matevoy or his hosts or any of their
fellow travelers spinning out from the sun. They knew only that new life
would come, if it came, from this beginning; and that they would know
it only in passing, as it passed them by, always going somewhere else.
Or so anyway they dreamed.