It seems to be a characteristic of all great work that it creators wear a cloak of imprecision.

A common sense interpretation of the facts suggests that a superintellect has monkeyed with physics.

The notion that not only the biopolymer but the operating program of a living cell could be arrived at by chance in a primordial organic soup here on the Earth is evidently nonsense of a high order.

Once I had learnt my twelve times table (at the age of three) it was downhill all the way.

Perhaps the most majestic feature of our whole existence is that while our intelligences are powerful enough to penetrate deeply into the evolution of this quite incredible Universe, we still have not the smallest clue to our own fate.

A superintellect has monkeyed with physics.

Words are like harpoons. Once they go in, they are very hard to pull out.