We must love one another or die. W. H. Auden

listen! there's a helluva good universe next door. let's go! --e.e.cummings

Or the whole poem:

pity this busy monster manunkind
not. progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim, death and life safely beyond,
plays with the bigness of his littleness.
electrons deify one razor blade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend
unwish through curving wherewhen
'til unwish returns on its unself. a world of made
is not a world of born. pity poor flesh
and trees, poor stars and stone, but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical
ultraomnipotence. we doctors know
a hopeless case if...listen!there's a
helluva good universe next door. let's go.

again from memory--likely errors in line breaks and punctuation

like the second coming, many great lines: I particularly like "progress is a comfortable disease"

luddites of the world arise! the 18th century can be regained.

--seed