It's very easy for trusted companies to mislead naive customers, and life insurance companies are trusted.

The confidence people have in their beliefs is not a measure of the quality of evidence but of the coherence of the story the mind has managed to construct.

We can be blind to the obvious, and we are also blind to our blindness.

Odd as it may seem, I am my remembering self, and the experiencing self, who does my living, is like a stranger to me.

Our comforting conviction that the world makes sense rests on a secure foundation: our almost unlimited ability to ignore our ignorance.

This is the essence of intuitive heuristics: when faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.

The idea that the future is unpredictable is undermined every day by the ease with which the past is explained.

Many ideas happen to us. We have intuition, we have feeling, we have emotion, all of that happens, we don't decide to do it. We don't control it.

By their very nature, heuristic shortcuts will produce biases, and that is true for both humans and artificial intelligence, but the heuristics of AI are not necessarily the human ones.

The illusion that we understand the past fosters overconfidence in our ability to predict the future.

We're generally overconfident in our opinions and our impressions and judgments.

You don't have to be stupid to be a Christian, ... but it probably helps.

I would warn any minority student today against the temptations of self-segregation: take support and comfort from your own group as you can, but don’t hide within it.

Experience seems to most of us to lead to conclusions, but empiricism has sworn never to draw them.

I'm terrible at reading fiction. I don't have the attention span - it's awful.

I loved Super-Monkey; always wanted to do something with him but it never happened.

I think that poetry is perfect for women raising children, with just bits of time and such need to connect to other women out of the isolation of motherhood.

I have loved to the point of madness; That which is called madness, That which to me, Is the only sensible way to love.

Rigorous teaching schedules combined with mounds of paperwork can lead to burnout.

To fear is to expect punishment. To love is to know we are immersed not in darkness, but in light.

This requires a level of delusion/egomania usually reserved for popes and drag queens