In the grandeur and universality of astronomical phenomena we forget the insignificant. Life in all its forms, in all its restlessness, in all its pageantry, disappears in the magnitude and remoteness of the perspective. The mind sees only the gorgeous fabric of the universe, recognises only the divine architect, and ponders but on cycles of glory or of desolation. If the pride of man is ever to be mocked, or his vanity mortified, or his selfishness rebuked, it is under the influence of these sublime studies.[1]
Watts, Chaos (1875 – 1882, Tate)

[1] George Frederic Watts, ‘Thoughts on Life’, in Mary S. Watts, George Frederic Watts, London 1912, vol.3, pp.295–6.