Compelling.

Beauty compels. To stand in front of art and marvel at the craft, eventually you are compelled to consider the artist. To listen to a composition and be moved by a melody, eventually you are intrigued by the composer. We think about these creators, these human replicators of beauty (and sorrow) and we wonder what they are like, how they were shaped to be able to make us feel by their work. We give praise where it is due. But we do not praise the canvas, as marvelous as it is. We do not praise the percussion of sound waves, as miraculous as they are. We rightly praise the author, and wonder at who they are because of what they have done. It should be the same for the universe and for the miracle of life. Science is the canvas, impartial and in no need of assigning praise. That doesn't make science an enemy, it makes it exactly what it has always been: a tool. The coldness or sterility of a museum or concert hall does not diminish the emotions of the observer. And that is our place, one we cannot escape, no matter how we try to either put ourselves at the center of everything or remove ourselves completely, we are made as witnesses to the universe. And when we look, with pure observation or science, we should be compelled to ask, not what is color or what is sound, but instead and eventually ask "Who is the author? "