Dna Brian Quotes

They would certainly have been simpler than the earliest known microbial mats, but somewhere in your genome there will be sequences of DNA that have been faithfully passed down across the great sweep of geological time, and if you have children, you’ll pass these four-billion-year-old messages on to them.

Who do we think we are — we small creatures with three-pound brains, a few limited senses, and life spans barely long enough to get to know our neighborhood, much less the planet, and much less the galaxy, and much less the universe, and much less still its creator! Who do we think we are to be able to define or even describe the creator of DNA, galaxies, dust mites, blue whales, the carbon cycle, light, and a billion other realities we have no notion about whatsoever, no awareness of at all?

patients with initially negative tests will develop positive results if retested six weeks later.) Proof of Lyme disease among these individuals who are negative on the two-tiered approach to testing may be hard to obtain, but occasionally one may get confirmation from other positive tests such as other antibody-based tests (C6 peptide ELISA or an IgG Western blot [even though the ELISA is negative]), a PCR assay for Borrelia DNA, or growth of the organism in culture. Experimental or newer tests (for example, tests of immune complexes or of Borrelia specific proteins) may also prove informative

Obviously, this is a system that has default atheism built into it from the beginning! When a person says, “I refuse to believe in the existence of invisible realities unless I see them,” they have, by definition, ended the game before it begins. If from the outset you insist that if God doesn’t show up in the telescope like Alpha Centauri or in the microscope like a DNA molecule, then God doesn’t exist, well, guess what, you’re going to “prove” that God doesn’t exist. Arguing that the self-sustaining Creator God doesn’t exist because God doesn’t appear in the category of contingent phenomenon is not a good-faith argument; it’s a trick.

When I thought of my ancestors, if I thoughts of them at all, as some sort of vague and amorphous collection of dead people with no solid connection to me or the modern world and certainty no real relevance to either. It was interesting enough to read about the Cro Magnons got up to all those years ago but nothing much to do with me. But once I had realised through genetics that one of my ancestors was actually there taking part is was no longer merely interesting it is overwhelming. DNA is the messenger to luminate that connection, handed down generation to generation, carried, literally, in the bodies of my ancestors. Each message traces a journey through time and space, a journey made by the long lines that springs from the ancestral mothers. We will never know all the details of these journeys over thousands of years and thousands of miles, but we can at least imagine them. I am on a stage. Before me, in the dim light are all who have ever lives are lined up - rank upon rank, stretching far into the distance. They make no sound that I can hear but they are talking to each other. I have in my hand the end of a thread which connects me to my ancestral mother, way at the back. I pull on the thread and one woman's face in every generation, feeling the tug, looks up at me. Their faces stand out from the crowd and they are illuminated by a strange light. These are my ancestors. I recognise my grandmother in the front row, but the faces in the generations behind her are unfamiliar to me. I look down the line. The women do not all look the same. Some are tall, some are short, some are beautiful, some are plain, some look wealthy, others poor. I want to ask them each in turn about their lives, their hopes, their disappointments, their joys and their sacrifices. I speak but they cannot hear. I feel a strong connection. These are all my mothers who passed this precious message from one to another through a thousand births, a thousand screams, a thousand embraces, a thousand new born babies. The thread becomes an umbilical cord. A thousand rows back stands Tara herself, the ancestral mother of my clan. She pulls on the cord. In the great throng, a million ancestors feel the tug in lines that radiate out from her source.

The story of the Eridania Basin and the possible scientific promise it holds was pieced together by using the results from different instruments on different spacecraft over many years, spanning several scientific disciplines: geology, chemistry, spectroscopy, laser altitude ranging and photography. The estimate of the age of the surface required the Apollo lunar rock samples from 50 years ago, and radiometric dating techniques which require an understanding of nuclear physics. The estimate of the age of the surface requires a model of the entire Solar System in order to interpret the measured crater density, which illustrates another important idea. The Solar System is a system; no planet is an island; no planet can be understood in isolation, just as the structure of any one living thing on Earth cannot be understood in isolation. Organisms are a product of evolution by natural selection, the interaction of the expression of genetic mutations and mixing with other organisms, in the ecosystem and the wider environment. The planets formed in a chaotic maelstrom from motions as random as the impact of a cosmic ray on a strand of primordial DNA, and whatever worlds emerged from the chaos have had their histories shaped profoundly by their mutual interactions throughout their evolution; the Late Heavy Bombardment is a beautiful example.

know I’m not ten, Decker. But you don’t get to stand there and tell me what I should and shouldn’t feel! You didn’t see what Brian did to those poor animals! You didn’t have to stand in a courtroom and have people judge you and wonder if you weren’t the same as your little brother since you share DNA! You don’t have to live your life wondering if there was anything you could’ve done to help just one of those defenseless animals. You don’t want to go with me? Great! I don’t need you. I’ve been just fine on my own up until now, and I’ll continue to be just fine. Your condescending, holier-than-thou attitude is getting a bit old anyway!

There are so many cells in your body that your entire collection of DNA would be about twice the diameter of the solar system.

So, confession, DNA, bam.  Done.”  Brian nods at the beauty of it.  If only the asshole would just tell the truth, Nicole could be home free. “Yeah, he’s toast.” “What about entrapment or whatever?  Isn’t setting him up like this going to make it impossible to use this stuff in court?” “You watch too much TV.  The only way it’s entrapment is if it’s a police officer in there.  Citizens can’t entrap other citizens.”  He grins.  “I love the law.” “I can tell,” Brian says, trying not to roll his eyes, but glad the guy knows what he’s talking about.

It’s so pretty up here,” she says, sighing with what sounds like contentment. “Yep.  I love coming here to decompress.  I do it several times a year, but usually not in winter.” “I like the river,” says Liam, looking up from his coloring.  “It’s cold but I still swim in it.  Daddy says I have merman jeans.  But he’s silly cuz mermans don’t wear pants.  They have fish tails so they have scales.” “Not jeans.  Gene.  Like in your DNA.” “I know.  That’s what I said.  But I don’t wear my jeans in the water, cuz that would make them all wet, and I don’t like to have wet pants or wet underwear.” Nicole laughs softly, turning to look in the back seat.  “Are you going to show me how you swim in the river, Liam?” “Yep.” Brian looks in his rearview mirror at his son again.  “We need to show this girl how to fish, Li-Li.  She’s never fished before.” Liam keeps coloring.  “I’ll show her how.  But she has to bait her own hook.  That’s the rule.” Nicole faces Brian.  “What do you fish with?” “Worms.” She grimaces.  “No, thank you.  I’ll just watch.” Brian smiles, knowing he’ll be able to convince her to try.  He’ll bait her hook as long as she needs him to, rules be damned.  He just has to explain to Liam that it’s okay to bait hooks for girls and that it’s not sexist to want to spare them the ickiness of it.  The kid probably won’t understand though; he thinks squirmy worms are fun to play with.  Brian’s had to dissuade him from putting worms in his pockets for years.