I mean it as a compliment when I say that you could almost define a philosopher as someone who won't take common sense for an answer.

Much as we might wish to believe otherwise, universal love and the welfare of the species as a whole are concepts which simply do not make evolutionary sense.

Do not indoctrinate your children. Teach them how to think for themselves, how to evaluate evidence, and how to disagree with you.

Faith is belief without evidence and reason; coincidentally that's also the definition of delusion.

Evolution is just a theory? Well, so is gravity and I don't see you jumping out of buildings.

Such delusions of grandeur to think that a God with a hundred billion galaxies on his mind would give a tuppenny damn who you sleep with, or indeed whether you believe in him.

The less you think, the more you believe.

How thoughtful of God to arrange matters so that, wherever you happen to be born, the local religion always turns out to be the true one.

The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.

Science is the poetry of reality.

The theory of evolution by cumulative natural selection is the only theory we know of that is in principle capable of explaining the existence of organized complexity.

Dreams are the inner perceptions and realizations that require goal oriented actions and persistence.

I don't plan anything any more. I just live my life.

Hasten slowly.

The destination of life is this eternal moment.

Some of what I wrote bordered on blasphemy....If there was a God, He would have to be truth. And in that case, candor--however impertinent--would be more pleasing to Him than posturing.

If we don't rebuild that connection with people we will really find even bigger gaps, because our gap on inequality is not just economic.

Far superior to the pleasures and rewards of the illusion that is Earthly life are the pleasure and rewards of the Reality.

Feather by feather the goose is plucked.

Hey Yog, what time is it? You mean right now?

And let me touch those curving claws of yellow ivory; and grasp the tail that like a monstrous asp coils round your heavy velvet paws.