We are embedded in the great evolutionary story of planet Earth, the spare, elegant process of mutation and selection and bricolage. And this means that we are anything but alone.

Life from nonlife, like wine from water, has long been considered a miracle wrought by gods or God. Now it is seen to be the near-inevitable consequence of our thermal and chemical circumstances.

Reverence is the sense that there is something larger than the self, larger even than the human, to which one accords respect and awe and assent.

The most reliable joy is to be out of doors, to be a creature among other creatures. I find it very restful.

The Senegalese conservationist Baba Dioum can summarize: "In the end, we will conserve only what we love, we will love only what we understand, and we will understand only what we are taught."

Human consensus does not generate reality. Were it able to do so, the Sun would have taken to orbiting the Earth some time ago.

When the responses elicited by the Epic of Evolution are gathered together several religious principles emerge that I can believe, serve as a framework for a global Ethos.

It is as we respond to the understandings and feelings inherent in . . . art that we acquire much of our truth, much of our nobility and grace, and much of our pleasure.

There's gonna be a time when I'm way curvier, and that'll be sexy too. What defines sexy is not someone's weight. Personally I like curves. I wanna look good for me. I wanna feel good.

I didn't set a red line, the world set a red line

Grown men have been seen fleeing after reading the menu posted outside.

A quart bottle should hold a quart.

Pry not into the affairs of others, and keep secret that which has been entrusted to you, though sorely tempted by wine and passion.

In obedience there is always fear, and fear darkens the mind.

You get what you get when you get it.

I was a little nervous backstage. But I had this book, Gandhi. I just read his quotes, closed my eyes and focused my thoughts. Presently, this book is my prized possession.

She who dies with the most stilettos wins.

To fear death, gentlemen, is no other then to think oneself wise when one is not, to think one knows what one does not know.