But that is exactly what I like about this science of geology. It is infinite, ambiguous, like all poetry; like all poetry it has secrets, is permeated by them, lives within them, without being destroyed by them. It does not lift the veil, but only moves it, and through tiny holes in the fabric a few rays escape, which dazzle the eye.
In: Ronald B. Parker, The Tenth Muse: The Pursuit of Earth Science (p. xiii)