Good morning, Dr. Chandra. This is Hal. I am ready for my first lesson.

Across the gulf of centuries, the blind smile of Homer is turned upon our age. Along the echoing corridors of time, the roar of the rockets merges now with the creak of the wind-taut rigging. For somewhere in the world today, still unconscious of his destiny, walks the boy who will be the first Odysseus of the Age of Space.

The universe must be full of voices, calling from star to star in a myriad tongues. One day we shall join that cosmic conversation.

I don't pretend we have all the answers. But the questions are certainly worth thinking about.

There is a special sadness in achievement, in the knowledge that a long-desired goal has been attained at last, and that life must now be shaped toward new ends.

You don't believe in organized religion, yet a major theme in so many of your works seems to be a quest for God.

When beauty is universal, it loses its power to move the heart, and only its absence can produce any emotional effect.