The stars are far from eternal, but for man they might as well be.

Someday death will take us to another star.

But if we do not destroy ourselves, I believe that we will one day venture to the stars.

Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars.

Just like people, stars can be important without being terribly bright.

What makes night within us may leave stars.

Too low they build who build beneath the stars.

Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.

We may conceive that, perhaps in progress of time these nebulæ which are already in such a state of compression, may be still farther condensed so as actually to become stars.

There had been aeons when other Things ruled on the earth, and They had had great cities. Remains of Them, he said the deathless Chinamen had told him, were still be found as Cyclopean stones on islands in the Pacific. They all died vast epochs of time before men came, but there were arts which could revive Them when the stars had come round again to the right positions in the cycle of eternity. They had, indeed, come themselves from the stars, and brought Their images with Them. These Great Old Ones, Castro continued, were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape — for did not this star-fashioned image prove it? — but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live. But although They no longer lived, They would never really die...

The stars are not the limit.

A star can never die. It just turns into a smile and melts back into the cosmic music, the dance of life.

No darkness lasts forever. And even there, there are stars.

Forget Jesus. Stars died so you could live.