For total greed, rapacity, heartlessness, and irresponsibility there is nothing to match a nation.

It is from the progeny of this parent cell that we all take our looks; we still share genes around, and the resemblance of the enzymes of grasses to those of whales is in fact a family resemblance.

The capacity to blunder slightly is the real marvel of DNA. Without this special attribute, we would still be anaerobic bacteria and there would be no music.

Statistically, the probability of any one of us being here is so small that you'd think the mere fact of existing would keep us all in a contented dazzlement of surprise.

In real life, every field of science is incomplete, and most of them - whatever the record of accomplishment during the last 200 years - are still in their very earliest stages.

We owe our lives to the sun... How is it, then, that we feel no gratitude?

The greatest single achievement of nature to date was surely the invention of the molecule DNA.

It is in our genes to understand the universe if we can, to keep trying even if we cannot, and to be enchanted by the act of learning all the way.

I would send the complete works of Johann Sebastian Bach into outer space on the Voyager spacecraft. But that would be boasting.

Animals have genes for altruism, and those genes have been selected in the evolution of many creatures because of the advantage they confer for the continuing survival of the species.

We leave traces of ourselves wherever we go, on whatever we touch.

The common theme of common sense is that it’s commonly rejected as uncommonly demanding.

Words of war, on a piece of paper. Where peace is torn off, crumbled and toss in the waste basket.

Nature does nothing in vain.

And then like thunder broke the frost, The chill wall fell, and morrowless Immortal maid and man embraced, Their light and shadow mingling.

It would be good for the workers in Vietnam even as it helps make sure that they're not undercutting competition here in the United States.

I've been going through some personal things that have stirred up a lot of old wounds.

Only in love is there trust - even the possibility of trust.

Playwriting, like begging in India, is an honorable but humbling profession.

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death. And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it.