A million million spermatozoa, All of them alive: Out of their cataclysm but one poor Noah Dare hope to survive.

In four compressed lines, Huxley turns human conception into an epic of mass mortality and improbable election. The “million million spermatozoa” evokes both biological fact and a modern, statistical imagination: life begins not with romantic destiny but with overwhelming numbers and ruthless selection. Calling the lone successful cell “one poor Noah” ironizes the biblical story of salvation—here, survival is not moral or providential but accidental, the outcome of a microscopic catastrophe. The stanza’s bleak wit fits Huxley’s recurrent skepticism about comforting narratives, suggesting that individuality and “chosen-ness” rest on contingency rather than cosmic purpose.