And the end of all our exploring," wrote TS Eliot in Little Gidding, the last of the Four Quartets, "[w]ill be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time." So it was with the Apollo Moon Landings, man's farthest jaunt and the puffed-up apotheosis of human exploration. The true reward wasn't found on the Moon itself, a frozen waste of pumice stone you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy, but in the vision of another, stranger planet altogether. "Suddenly," as the astronaut Edgar Mitchell described it, "from behind the rim of the Moon & there emerges a sparkling blue and white jewel, a light, delicate sky-blue sphere laced with slowly swirling veils of white, rising gradually like a small pearl in a thick sea of black mystery.