"Don't think that I accept them in their entirety.
Part truth, part illusion--the groping mind dazzled with light of unfamiliar truths and making pictures from half light and half shadow to help it understand.
"But still--SOME truth in them.

How much I do not know.

But this I do know--that last vision was of a cataclysm whose beginnings we face now--this very instant." The picture flashed behind my own eyes--of the walled city, its thronging people, its groves and gardens, its science and its art; of the Destroying Shapes trampling it flat--and then the dreadful, desolate mount.
And suddenly I saw that mount as Earth--the city as Earth's cities--its gardens and groves as Earth's fields and forests--and the vanished people of Cherkis seemed to expand into all humanity.
"But Martin," I stammered, fighting against choking, intolerable terror, "there was something else.

Something of the Keeper of the Cones and of our striking through the sun to destroy the Things--something of them being governed by the same laws that govern us and that if they broke them they must fall.

A hope--a PROMISE, that they would NOT conquer." "I remember," he replied, "but not clearly.