A life-whether seamstress or poet, farmer or king-is measured not by length, but by the worth of its deeds, and the power of its dreams.

What makes this danger so terrible is that humans tip the balance of your world. No other species can make such a difference, for good or ill. If humans can live in harmony with other forms of life, the world rejoices. If not, the world suffers--and may not survive.

A life-whether seamstress or poet, farmer or king-is measured not by length, but by the worth of its deeds, and the power of its dreams.

You know what I like best about looking at the stars? Not the stars themselves, but all those empty spaces between the stars. That's where I can imagine traveling for ever and ever. That's where I can imagine infinity.

The leaf, still green, must someday fall such grief and joy to live at all.

Why is it that what we do know can save us, but what we don't know can kill us?

And I came to understand, in a way I never had before, that books are truly the stuff of miracles. I even dared to dream that someday, somehow, I might surround myself with books from many times and many tongues.