Poetry Is A Kind Of Ingenious Nonsense.

Every Particle Of Matter Is Attracted By Or Gravitates To Every Other Particle Of Matter With A Force Inversely Proportional To The Squares Of Their Distances.

I Understood. I Have Understood. I Do Understand.

Thus Far I Have Explained The Phenomena Of The Heavens And Of Our Sea By The Force Of Gravity, But I Have Not Yet Assigned A Cause To Gravity. Indeed, This Force Arises From Some Cause That Penetrates As Far As The Centers Of The Sun And Planets Without Any Diminution Of Its Power To Act, And That Acts Not In Proportion To The Quantity Of The Surfaces Of The Particles On Which It Acts (as Mechanical Causes Are Wont To Do) But In Proportion To The Quantity Of Solid Matter, And Whose Action Is Extended Everywhere To Immense Distances, Always Decreasing As The Squares Of The Distances.

Nature Is Pleased With Simplicity. And Nature Is No Dummy.

From What Has Been Said It Is Also Evident, That The Whiteness Of The Sun's Light Is Compounded All The Colours Wherewith The Several Sorts Of Rays Whereof That Light Consists, When By Their Several Refrangibilities They Are Separated From One Another, Do Tinge Paper Or Any Other White Body Whereon They Fall. For Those Colours ... Are Unchangeable, And Whenever All Those Rays With Those Their Colours Are Mix'd Again, They Reproduce The Same White Light As Before.