For a scenic browse, and an answer-page for Guess The World...
"...Maybe the brains of Earth things naturally are slow and foggy. Maybe we are the morons of the universe. Maybe we are fixed so we have to do things the hard way."
And, in the new sharp clarity of thought that seemed to grip him, he knew that it would not only be the matter of colours in a waterfall... He sensed other things, things not yet quite clear. A vague whispering that hinted of greater things, of mysteries beyond the pale of human thought, beyond even the pale of human imagination. Mysteries, fact, logic built on reasoning. Things that any brain should know if it used all its reasoning power.
"We're still mostly Earth," he said. "We're just beginning to learn a few of the things we are to know - a few of the things that were kept from us as human beings, perhaps because we were human beings. Because our human bodies were poor bodies. Poorly equipped for thinking, poorly equipped in certain senses that one has to have to know. Perhaps even lacking in certain senses that are necessary to true knowledge."
He stared back at the dome, a tiny black thing dwarfed by the distance.
there were men who couldn't see the beauty... Men who thought that
swirling clouds and lashing rain obscured the planet's face. Unseeing
human eyes. Poor eyes. Eyes that could not see the beauty in the
clouds, that could not see through the storm. Bodies that could not
feel the thrill of trilling music stemming from the rush of broken
Clifford D Simak, Desertion (Astounding, November 1944)
...No possible artificial structure, and but few natural ones - in practice manoeuvres entire mountains had been lifted and hurled for miles through the air - could have withstood the incredible violence of that lunging, twisting, upheaving impact. Lifted bodily by that impalpable hawser of force and cruelly wrenched and twisted by its enormous couple of angular momentum... boulders, fragments of concrete masonry, and masses of metal flew in all directions as that city-encircling conduit of diabolical machinery was torn from its bed.
A portion of that conduit fully thirty miles in length was in the air, a twisted, flaming inferno of wrecked generators, exploding ammunition, and broken and short-circuited high-tension leads... With resounding crashes the structure parted at the weakened points, the furious upheaval stopped, and, the tractor beams shut off, the shattered, smoking, erupting mass of wreckage fell in clashing, grinding ruin upon the city...
material lining of the ghastly moat was the only substance capable of
resisting the action of its contents, and now, that lining destroyed by
the uprooting of the fortress, that corrosive, brilliantly mobile liquid
cascaded down into the trough and added its hellish contribution to the
furious scene. For whatever that devouring fluid touched flared into
yellow flame, gave off clouds of lurid, strangling vapour, and
E E "Doc" Smith, Spacehounds of IPC (1931, 1947)
...The wind came whooping out of eastern darkness, driving a lash of ammonia dust before it...
He clawed all four feet into the broken shards which were soil, hunched down and groped for his little smelter. The wind was an idiot bassoon in his skull. Something whipped across his back, drawing blood, a tree yanked up by the roots and spat a hundred miles. Lightning cracked, immensely far overhead where clouds boiled with night.
As if to reply, thunder toned in the ice mountains and a red gout of flame jumped and a hillside came booming down, spilling itself across the valley...
The fire and the lightning gave him enough illumination to find his apparatus. He picked up tools in muscular hands, his tail gripped the trough and he battered his way to the tunnel and thus to his dugout.
had walls and roof of water, frozen by sun-remoteness and compressed by
tons of atmosphere jammed on to every square inch. Ventilated by a
tiny smoke hole, a lamp of tree oil burning in hydrogen made a dull
light for the single room...
Poul Anderson, Call Me Joe (Astounding Science Fiction, April 1957)
...The sphere was borne up a canal through the center of the village. Connor looked with dumbfounded eyes upon the thousands of huts which lay on either side. Waterways intersected at regular well-placed intervals, aqueous streets crowded with dwelling-places of the tetrahedron creatures. It was a gigantic metropolis of unaccountable intelligent beings. In the near distance, the crimson beam shot up into the sky, a pillar of light and an object of insatiable curiosity for the terrestrials.
At last, a great structure, centering the tetrahedron metropolis, loomed huge and rough, a black craggy mass approached by a waterway leading into an arching tunnel. The sphere was pushed and jostled beneath this arch and through various branches of the waterway beneath the great building. A vague diffused light danced on the walls of the cavernous dwelling...
they found themselves being propelled down a long canal leading across a
great chamber which resembled an amphitheatre, already rapidly filling
with the tetrahedrons. On a central dais, surrounded by waterlanes, was
a group of imposing creatures with gigantic swollen heads twice the
size of those propelling the sphere...
J Harvey Haggard, Children of the Ray (Fantastic Story Quarterly, Spring 1950)
...Four days later, after crossing a ridge of mountains that the pressure on the aneroid barometer showed to be about thirty-two thousand feet high, and a stretch of flat country a few miles in width, they came to a great arm of the sea. It was about thirty miles wide at its mouth, which was narrowed like the neck of a bottle, and farther inland was over one hundred miles across, and though their glasses, the clear air, and the planet's size enabled them to see nearly five hundred miles, they could not find its end. In the shallow water along its shores, and on the islands rising but a few feet above the waves, they saw all kinds of amphibians and sea-monsters. Many of these were almost the exact reproduction in life of the giant plesiosaurs, dinosaurs, and elasmosaurs, whose remains are preserved in the museums on earth. The reptilian bodies of the elasmosaurs, seventy-five feet in length, with the forked tongues, distended jaws and fangs of a snake, were easily taken for the often described but probably mythical sea-serpent, as partially coiled they occasionally raised their heads twelve or fifteen feet...
the striking similarity of these creatures to their terrestrial
counterparts that existed on earth during its corresponding period,
there were some interesting modifications. The organs of locomotion in
the amphibians were more developed, while the eyes of all were larger,
the former being of course necessitated by the power of gravity, and the
latter by the greater distance from the sun...
John Jacob Astor, A Journey in Other Worlds (1894)
...he was on his way down. To and fro he swung, hearing the wind whistle past him. A hunter tossed him a rope. He caught hold. The Hidden Folk lined themselves along the far end and started off.
The great nest was soon lost to view. It was not surprising that no ground dweller had ever seen one like that, or an aerial pasture, or the monsters which browsed there. A mile up, with half the atmosphere and a goodly percentage of the clouds between, they would be invisible. He wondered what other strangenesses dwelt in his heaven.
a while he felt the strain increase on his tow rope, until at last he
could hold it no more and must knot it about his waist. The hunters
were plainly laboring hard. He needed a few minutes to deduce the
reason. Nature had meant the leaf which supported him to float at a
certain altitude. He was now down to where the air was getting
appreciably denser. His gills recognized that...
Poul Anderson, Three Worlds to Conquer (1964)
...How long I was in crossing that dismal ocean, I do not know... with no sun, moon, nor stars, I could not measure time.
saw no ship upon that entire vast expanse of water, but I did see life -
plenty of it. And I saw terrific storms that buffeted my craft,
tossing it about like a feather. But that was nothing compared with
that I saw below me as the storms at the height of their fury lashed the
surface of the waters. I realized then how suicidal would have been my
attempt to cross that terrible ocean in the frail craft I had planned
to build. I saw waves that must have measured two hundred feet from
trough to crest - waves that hurled the mighty monsters of the deep as
though they had been tiny minnows. No ship could have lived in such
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Skeleton Men of Jupiter (Amazing Stories, February 1943)
...While in quest of fire-wood, they came upon great heaps of bones, mostly those of birds, and were attracted by the tall, bell-shaped flowers growing luxuriantly in their midst. These exhaled a most delicious perfume, and at the centre of each flower was a viscous liquid, the colour of honey.
"If this tastes as well as it looks," said Bearwarden, "it will come in well for dessert"; saying which he thrust his finger into the recesses of the flower, intending to taste the essence. Quietly, but like a flash, the flower closed, his hand being nearly caught and badly scratched by the long, sharp thorns that now appeared at the edges...
evening these flowers sent up their most beautiful song, to hear which
flocks of birds came from far and near, alighting on the trees, and many
were lured to death by the siren strains and the honey...
John Jacob Astor, A Journey in Other Worlds (1894)
My route now carried me smoothly towards the incandescent area... I approached the iridescent region and then was suddenly inside it. The sensation was of being inside a glorious world of light and colour, and with this sensation came the certainty that someone was talking to me. Although I was not conscious of hearing any known words, I knew that I could remove my headpiece. I moved on closer, gliding through the sea of shimmering light. Voices spoke at me now from every side. It wasn't like ordinary speech. It was more like the voices of music. I felt I knew something both beautiful and profound was being said, but that I lacked a knowledge of the language. The sounds became louder as I proceded.
There were shapes too, showing more clearly the forming and reforming process I'd seen from the outside.
voices drew me on even further, and the further I travelled the clearer
the shapes became and the more distinctive the sounds. The language
seemed not only accessible but immediately within my grasp. Suddenly I
knew the language would indeed become clear - but only if I were to
proceed beyond the threshold of my own being...
Fred and Geoffrey Hoyle, The Incandescent Ones (1977)