rpy land of the Vitalists: and in those dark groves the home of
successful Analysis, surnamed Psycho: and over those blue hills the
Supermen are prancing about, though you can't see them. And there is
Besantheim, and there is Eddyhowe, and there, on that queer little
tableland, is Wilsonia, and just round the corner is Rabindranathopolis....

But Lord, I can't see anything. Help me, heaven, to a telescope, for I
see blank nothing.

I'm not going to try any more. I'm going to sit down on my posterior
and sluther full speed down this Pisgah, even if it cost me my trouser
seat. So ho!--away we go.

In the beginning--there never was any beginning, but let it pass.
We've got to make a start somehow. In the very beginning of all
things, time and space and cosmos and being, in the beginning of all
these was a little living creature. But I don't know even if it was
little. In the beginning was a living creature, its plasm quivering
and its life-pulse throbbing. This little creature died, as little
creatures always do. But not before it had had young ones. When the
daddy creature died, it fell to pieces. And that was the beginning of
the cosmos. Its little body fell down to a speck of dust, which the
young ones clung to because they must cling to something. Its little
breath flew asunder, the hotness and brightness of the little beast--I
beg your pardon, I mean the radiant energy from the corpse flew away
to the right hand, and seemed to shine warm in the air, while the
clammy energy from the body flew away to the left hand, and seemed
dark and cold. And so, the first little master was dead and done for,
and instead of his little living body there was a speck of dust in the
middle, which became the earth, and on the right hand was a brightness
which became the sun, rampaging with all the energy that had come out
of the dead little master, and on the left hand a darkness which felt
like an unrisen moon. And that was how the Lord created the world.
Except that I know nothing about the Lord, so I shouldn't mention it.

But I forgot the soul of the little master. It probably did a bit of
flying as well--and then came back to the young ones. It seems most
natural that way.

Which is my account of the Creation. And I mean by it, that Life is
not and never was anything but living creatures. That's what life is
and will be just living creatures, no matter how large you make the
capital L. Out of living creatures the material cosmos