There is a furnace in our cells, and when we breathe we pass the world through our bodies, brew it lightly, and turn it loose again, gently altered for having known us.

Fear is danger to your body, but disgust is danger to your soul.

Our relationship with nature has changed radically, irreversibly, but by no means all for the bad. Our new epoch is laced with invention. Our mistakes are legion, but our talent is immeasurable.

Which is crueler, an old man's lost memories of a life lived, or a young man's lost memories of the life he meant to live?

There was nothing to do but wait. It is always like this for naturalists, and for poets--the long hours of travel and preparation, and then the longer hours of waiting. All for that one electric, pulse-revving vision when the universe suddenly declares itself.

Who would drink from a cup when they can drink from the source?

History is an agreed-upon fiction.