Pale Blue Dot.
From this distant vantage point,
the Earth might not seem of particular interest.
But for us,
Consider again that dot.
That's here, that's home, that's us.
On it everyone you love,
everyone you know,
everyone you ever heard of,
every human being who ever was,
lived out their lives.
The aggregate of our joy and suffering,
thousands of confident religions,
and economic doctrines,
every hunter and forager,
every hero and coward,
every creator and destroyer of civilization,
every king and peasant,
every young couple in love,
every mother and father,
inventor and explorer,
every teacher of morals,
every corrupt politician,
every "supreme leader,"
every saint and sinner,
in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena.
Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that,
in glory and triumph,
they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Think of the endless cruelties visited
by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable
inhabitants of some other corner,
how frequent their misunderstandings,
how eager they are to kill one another,
how fervent their hatreds.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life.
There is nowhere else,
at least in the near future,
to which our species could migrate.
Settle, not yet.
Like it or not,
for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.