“We are star stuff harvesting sunlight.”

Nothing disturbs me more than the glorification of stupidity.

Books permit us to voyage through time, to tap the wisdom of our ancestors.

The truth may be puzzling. It may take some work to grapple with. It may be counterintuitive. It may contradict deeply held prejudices. It may not be consonant with what we desperately want to be true. But our preferences do not determine what’s true.

We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.

Every star may be a sun to someone.

Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality.

Advances in medicine and agriculture have saved vastly more lives than have been lost in all the wars in history.

We make our world significant by the courage of our questions and the depth of our answers.

Books break the shackles of time, proof that humans can work magic.

The universe is a pretty big place. If it’s just us, seems like an awful waste of space.

The universe is not required to be in perfect harmony with human ambition.

Better the hard truth, I say, than the comforting fantasy.

The price we pay for anticipation of the future is anxiety about it.

We can’t help it. Life looks for life.

We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.

Science is a way of thinking much more than it is a body of knowledge.