I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.
Vocations which we wanted to pursue but didn’t, bleed, like colors, on the whole of our existence.
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
There are two kinds of truth: the truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science, and the second is art. Neither is independent of the other or more important than the other. Without art, science would be as useless as a pair of high forceps in the hands of a plumber. Without science, art would become a crude mess of folklore and emotional quackery. The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous.
The most important discoveries will provide answers to questions that we do not yet know how to ask and will concern objects we have not yet imagined.
Let us be grateful to people to make us happy. They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
Extraordinary things are always hiding in places people never think to look.
Life cannot be classified in terms of a simple neurological ladder, with human beings at the top; it is more accurate to talk of different forms of intelligence, each with its strengths and weaknesses. This point was well demonstrated in the minutes before last December’s  tsunami, when tourists grabbed their digital cameras and ran after the ebbing surf, and all the “dumb” animals made for the hills.
The heart that breaks open can contain the whole Universe.
It is not action or effort that we must surrender; it is self-will, and this is terribly difficult. You must do your best constantly, yet never allow yourself to become involved in whether things work out the way you want.