Daily Dose of Ingersoll

A new era is dawning on the world. We are beginning to believe
in the religion of usefulness.

The men who felled the forests, cultivated the earth, spanned
the rivers with bridges of steel, built the railways and canals,
the great ships, invented the locomotives and engines, supplying
the countless wants of man: the men who invented the telegraphs and
cables, and freighted the electric spark with thought and love; the
men who invented the looms and spindles that clothe the world, the
inventors of printing and the great presses that fill the earth
with poetry, fiction and fact, that save and keep all knowledge for
the children yet to be; the inventors of all the wonderful machines
that deftly mold from wood and steel the things we use; the men who
have explored the heavens and traced the orbits of the stars — who
have read the story of the world in mountain range and billowed
sea; the men who have lengthened life and conquered pain; the great
philosophers and naturalists who have filled the world with light;
the great poets whose thoughts have charmed the souls, the great
painters and sculptors who have made the canvas speak, the marble
live; the great orators who have swayed the world, the composers
who have given their souls to sound, the captains of industry, the
producers, the soldiers who have battled for the right, the vast
host of useful men — these are our Christs, our apostles and our
saints. The triumphs of science are our miracles. The books filled
with the facts of Nature are our sacred scriptures, and the force
that is in every atom and in every star — in everything that lives
and grows and thinks, that hopes and suffers, is the only possible

Robert Green Ingersoll – “Truth” (1897)