Stones, here, are sometimes objects of contemplation, like things used for spiritual exercise. I do not look at them in terms of their dimensions or qualities. I only focus on their appearance, which is practically all I know or perceive of them. Like the ancient Chinese, I am inclined to consider each stone to be a world. Like Pascal, I presume that, from the atom to the nebula, the models for the two infinities coincide, and, like Paracelsus, I readily imagine that there are kinds of signatures for things—patterns that vary but are constant. While their appearances first surprise us because of their variety, if the universe is countable, they must necessarily recur.