A Quote by Jill Tarter

Ultimately, we actually all belong to only one tribe, to Earthlings. — © Jill Tarter
Ultimately, we actually all belong to only one tribe, to Earthlings.
We all belong to a tribe. You might be a religious or a family person - that's your tribe.
I come from no country, from no city, no tribe. I am the son of the road... all tongues and all prayers belong to me. But I belong to none of them.
Human beings are Earthlings and as Earthlings are connected to every other living being on this planet.
Earthlings are confused, insecure. And some Earthlings have no heritage: that's what leads them to kill each other and rob 7-11 stores.
We need to radically and intelligently reduce human populations to fewer than one billion. We need to eliminate nationalism and tribalism and become Earthlings. And as Earthlings, we need to recognize that all the other species that live on this planet are also fellow citizens and also Earthlings. This is a planet of incredible diversity of life-forms; it is not a planet of one species as many of us believe.
I belong to the tribe of Levi.
The tribe is whatever we believe it is. If we say the tribe is all the Little Ones in the forest, and all the trees, then that is what the tribe is. Even though some of the oldest trees here came from warriors of two different tribes, fallen in battle. We become one tribe because we say we're one tribe." Ender marveled at his mind, this small raman [member of another sentient species]. How few humans were able to grasp this idea, or let it extend beyond the narrow confines of their tribe, their family, their nation.
A tribe is a group of people connected to one another, connected to a leader, and connected to an idea. For millions of years, human beings have been part of one tribe or another. A group needs only two things to be a tribe: a shared interest and a way to communicate.
We do not belong to this material world that science constructs for us. We are not in it; we are outside. We are only spectators. The reason why we believe that we are in it, that we belong to the picture, is that our bodies are in the picture. Our bodies belong to it. Not only my own body, but those of my friends, also of my dog and cat and horse, and of all the other people and animals. And this is my only means of communicating with them.
I'm still the baddest expletive in the world. Yeah, I'm getting older, but Kareem got older. Hakeem got older. I don't need Earthlings' respect. When it's all said and done, my name will be there and it will be mentioned ... unless you Earthlings try to erase it.
You know who you belong to Jack? - Yeah. Yourself. - He's wrong, actually, I belong to Ma. p. 261 Room by E Donoghue
You belong with me, Scarlett, haven't you figured that out? And the world is where we belong, all of it. We're not home-and-hearth people. We're the adventurers, the buccaneers, the blockade runners. Without challenge, we're only half alive. We can go anywhere, and as long as we're together, it will belong to us. But, my pet, we'll never belong to it. That's for other people, not for us.
It's always been a great survival value for people to believe they belong to a superior tribe. That's just in human relationships.
I emcee how I feel for the moment. I'll always be influenced by Tribe, but my EP and LP have a lot of different flavors! I'll keep it vintage Tribe if Tribe decides to do another LP... which, in my heart, I'd love to do for the fans.
I met Pendragon when I made the journey to the far desert. He is from the tribe known as...as..." Loor was scrambling. Bokka didn't know about the Travelers. I had to bail her out. Yankees," I said. "The Yankees tribe." Hey, what can I say? It was the first thing that came to mind. "It's a strong tribe," I added. "Respected by all...except for our mortal enemies, the Sox tribe. They hate us. Especially the Red ones. Cannibals. Nasty characters.
I think one of poetry's functions is not to give us what we want... The poet isn't always of use to the tribe. The tribe thrives on the consensual. The tribe is pulling together to face the intruder who threatens it. Meanwhile, the poet is sitting by himself in the graveyard talking to a skull.
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