Quotes About Evolution

By the time the traditionally male lexicographers become interested in looking at fashion words, their origins are lost in the mists of time.

There is a time for everything and you do different things at different ages.

The developing science departs at the same time more and more from its original scope and purpose and threatens to sacrifice its earlier unity and split into diverse branches.

Empires do not suffer emptiness of purpose at the time of their creation. It is when they have become established that aims are lost and replaced by vague ritual.

Years, following years, steal something every day; At last they steal us from ourselves away.

Time changes all things and cultivates even in herself an appreciation of irony, and, therefore, why shouldn't I have changed a trifle?

Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.

You know what I think, Sarah? I think that when God made all those animals, He was practicing. He made them all different shapes and sizes, and He just kept on practicing. For when He made man. But He had to practice a lot, first. That's why the animals are all so different-looking. What do you think? 'Sometimes,' Sarah said, 'I think He didn't practice enough.

A book--the book that was, for some reason, THE book--can be reread, unchanged. Only we have changed. And that makes all the difference.

Then when she really thought about it she realized she'd been becoming different people for as long as she could remember but had never really noticed, or had put it down to moods, or marriage, or motherhood. The problem was that she'd thought that at a certain point she would be a finished product.

Maybe everyone stays the same inside, even when their life looks nothing like what they once had, or even imagined.

Maybe when you were a kid you were so unsure of yourself that every school year was a time of reinvention; maybe only adults were stupid enough to think they knew exactly who they were.

It is interesting to note how often a technological development—such as Gutenberg's—promotes rather than eliminates that which it is supposed to supersede.

It's odd when I think of the arc of my life, from child to young woman to aging adult. First I was who I was. Then I didn't know who I was. Then I invented someone and became her. Then I began to like what I invented. And finally I was what I was again...Anna Quindlen

Nora remembered drawing in the sand of her future with a stick. What she couldn't recall was when the sand had become cement, the who-I-want-to-be turned for once and for all into who-I-am.

Perhaps instead of scaring ourselves we need to surprise ourselves every day. We are, after all, always a work in progress.

It's odd when I think of the arc of my life, from child to young woman to aging adult. First I was who I was. Then I didn't know who I was. Then I invented someone and became her. Then I began to like what I'd invented.

as though I had been flat water and now I was carbonated.

The problem was that she'd thought that at a certain point she would be a finished product.

I knew the secret that was not a secret, that the molecules of the living world are always rearranging themselves so that something is lost, something is lost every day.

Then when she really thought about it she realized she'd been becoming different people for as long as she could remember but had never really noticed, or had put it down to moods, or marriage, or motherhood. The problem was that she'd thought that at a certain point she would be a finished product. Now she wasn't sure what that might be

Does anyone write texts or emails as substantial or as telling as what we find in the letters of the past?

knew, that for a birthday or a holiday or simply a dinner party offering, they could bring her a snow globe. Except that Dorothea was no longer charmed by snow

We know fewer words, and the ones we know are less beautiful. The words we've lost tend to be connotative, and the ones we've gained tend to be denotative. I've never seen modem used in a poem.