Walking up the hill on the way home from the store tonight, the skies were clear except for the Moon and a few scattered, anonymous stars. The waxing first quarter sat, looking at us, just as it has day after day, night after night, month after month, for billions of years. From here, as far as we can see, it’s always the same; always just fine, always beautiful.
From there, from 239,000 miles, or so, away, we’ve sat in the sky, spinning quietly, day after day, night after night, for billions of years. From there, tomorrow, we’ll look the same. Just as beautiful. Just a blink, a single letter, in a very long story, and we’ll spin on.
NPR beat me to it, but I’ll let Dr. Sagan take it from here.