We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.
That splendid music, that coming in music, the elephant march from aida is the music I’ve chosen for my funeral. And you can see why… its triumphal. I wont feel anything but if I could I would feel triumphal at having lived at all, and having lived on this splendid planet and having given the opportunity to understand something about why I was here in the first place before not being here.
I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesnt resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.
After That I liked jazz music
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
How can we encourage other human beings to extend their moral sympathies beyond a narrow locus? How can we learn to be mere human beings, shorn of any more compelling national, ethnic, or religious identity? We can be reasonable. It is in the very nature of reason to fuse cognitive and moral horizons. Reason is nothing less than the guardian of love.
Unweaving the Rainbow
A Devil's Chaplain
The God Delusion
The Selfish Gene
Sex Drugs and DNA
The End of Faith
Letter to a Christian Nation
Your Inner Fish