The knowing, I told myself, is only a vapor of the mind, and yet it can wreck havok with one's sanity.

It's animal by animal that you save a species.

If we mammals don't get something to eat every day or two, our temperature drops, all our signs fall off, and we begin to starve. Living at biological red alert, it's not surprising how obsessed we are with food; I'm just amazed we don't pace and fret about it all the time.

Shaped a little like a loaf of French country bread, our brain is a crowded chemistry lab, bustling with nonstop neural conversations.

On some summer days in New York City, the air hangs thickly visible, like the combined exhalations of eight million souls. Steam rising from vents underground makes you wonder if there isn't one giant sweat gland lodged beneath the city.

Of all the errands life seems to be running, of all the mysteries that enchant us, love is my favorite

Flight is nothing but an attitude in motion.