It is surely one of the curious paradoxes of history that science which professionally has little to do with faith, owes its origins to an act of faith that the universe can be rationally interpreted, and that science today is sustained by that assumption.

Man is always marveling at what he has blown apart, never at what the universe has put together, and this is his limitation.

It is frequently the tragedy of the great artist, as it is of the great scientist, that he frightens the ordinary man.

I am older now, and sleep less, and have seen most of what there is to see and am not very much impressed any more, I suppose, by anything.

We cannot pluck a flower witout disturbing a star.

I no longer cared about survival...I merely loved.

What if I am, in some way, only a sophisticated fire that has acquired an ability to regulate its rate of combustion and to hoard its fuel in order to see and walk?