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.
Every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
How frequent their misunderstandings, how fervent their hatreds.
Our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world.
To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.
Pale Blue Dot, Carl Segan.