The surface of the Earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean. On this shore, we've learned most of what we know. Recently, we've waded a little way out, maybe ankle-deep, and the water seems inviting. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return, and we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We're made of star stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.

You can't convince a believer of anything; for their belief is not based on evidence, it's based on a deep seated need to believe

Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.

All inquiries carry with them some element of risk.

If we ruin the earth, there is no place else to go

What an astonishing thing a book is.

It would be wryly interesting if in human history the cultivation of marijuana led generally to the invention of agriculture, and thereby to civilization.