If you are only skeptical, then no new ideas make it through to you.

We are star stuff which has taken its destiny into its own hands. The loom of time and space works the most astonishing transformations of matter.

There is no other species on Earth that does science. It is, so far, entirely a human invention, evolved by natural selection in the cerebral cortex for one simple reason: it works. It is not perfect. It can be misused. It is only a tool. But it is by far the best tool we have, self-correcting, ongoing, applicable to everything.

The universe seems neither benign nor hostile, merely indifferent.

Stars are phoenixes, rising from their own ashes.

A blade of grass is a commonplace on Earth; it would be a miracle on Mars. Our descendants on Mars will know the value of a patch of green. And if a blade of grass is priceless, what is the value of a human being?

We are star stuff harvesting sunlight.