Space is almost infinite. As a matter of fact, we think it is

Hear the simple yet profound words of Dan Quayle, who declared: “Space is almost infinite. As a matter of fact, we think it is infinite.” Though spoken plainly, these words touch upon the deepest mystery of existence: the boundless nature of the cosmos. For in gazing upward, mankind has always felt the trembling of awe, realizing that beyond the stars there stretches a vastness without measure. To name space as infinite is to confess both wonder and humility, for no man can encompass it, and yet every man is called to ponder it.

The origin of this reflection lies in humanity’s eternal relationship with the heavens. From the days when shepherds charted constellations to guide their flocks, to the astronomers of Babylon and Greece who measured the motions of the stars, men have sought to know whether the universe had bounds or walls, or whether it stretched endlessly beyond comprehension. The ancients spoke of crystal spheres, of heavens layered like steps. Yet as knowledge grew, those spheres shattered, and the mind of man was thrust into the possibility of true infinity. Quayle’s words, though not clothed in scholarly elegance, echo this same timeless astonishment: the universe may have no edge, no boundary, no end.

Consider the tale of Edwin Hubble, who looked into the night sky in the early twentieth century and saw galaxies racing away from one another. This revelation shattered the ancient idea of a fixed cosmos. The universe was not still—it was expanding. And if it expands without end, then indeed, it is as Quayle suggested: “almost infinite… in fact, infinite.” With that discovery, humanity’s vision leapt outward. No longer was our world the center, no longer was our galaxy alone. We were but one speck in an immeasurable sea.

Yet the power of this quote does not rest in astronomy alone, but in its spiritual resonance. To speak of the infinite is to confront the smallness of the human frame, and yet also to feel the greatness of the human spirit. For though our bodies are bound to earth, our minds stretch outward into infinity. In contemplating the endless, we partake of it. This is the paradox of man: finite in form, infinite in imagination. Space reminds us of both our humility and our potential.

History too gives us lessons of courage in the face of vastness. Think of the voyagers of the Age of Exploration, who sailed into uncharted oceans, uncertain whether land or endless waters awaited them. To them, the sea was a kind of infinity, boundless and terrifying. Yet by braving it, they discovered new worlds, expanded horizons, and transformed history. So too with space: though it appears infinite, daunting, and unreachable, humanity dares to step into it, one mission at a time, trusting that discovery lies within the unknown.

The lesson of Quayle’s words is this: never fear the infinite, for it is not meant to paralyze you, but to inspire you. In life, as in the universe, there are horizons that seem endless, problems that seem insurmountable, paths that stretch without end. Yet within the vastness lies opportunity, and within the mystery lies growth. To say “space is infinite” is also to say: our capacity to learn, to grow, to dream is infinite. We are not confined to what is known, but called always into the beyond.

Therefore, O listener, lift your gaze to the heavens and let the infinity of space awaken both awe and courage. Do not shrink before the boundless, but embrace it. Live not as one who fears what cannot be measured, but as one who marvels at it, learns from it, and takes bold steps into it. For though the cosmos may be endless, our time is short—and it is in daring to journey into the infinite, whether in knowledge, in love, or in creation, that we find the true greatness of being human.