“She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after every one else’s eyes in the world would have stopped looking. She looked as though there were nothing on earth she would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of so many things.”
— Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
This is the Moon.
But imagine for a second that the Moon switched places with other planets. This is what you would see (subject to staying alive, of course):
“His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.”
— Ernest Hemingway on Fitzgerald
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Crack-Up