Sandra Faber

I don't recall my parents ever steering me toward or away from science. It was more that I was steered toward learning and excellence in the classroom.

In little localized pockets, the universe is capable of building some beautiful complexity.

The realization that baryonic matter is only a trace component of the universe revealed our understanding of the cosmos as shockingly incomplete and was one of the milestones that ushered in the era of modern cosmology.

I take comfort in the fact that it is a beautiful universe, and we belong here and that we fit. This is our home.

Hubble has established for the first time that the distant universe looks different from the nearby universe.

Far from feeling dwarfed by the vast reaches and energy of the cosmos, what we really learn is that we are the most remarkable and complicated product of cosmic evolution, and our potential is unlimited.

The Kecks will allow us, like no other telescope in history, to view the evolving universe that gave us birth.

We're on our own on spaceship Earth. So we have to solve our own problems.

I remember spending evenings looking at the sky with my dad, who was interested. He was a civil engineer and was interested in science as a kid. And he always encouraged me.

It's a blessing in a scientific career - the almost daily thrill of scientific discovery.

There are kind of two kinds of awards you can get as a scientist. One is Nobel-like in character: it's for one big thing, for a big revolutionary discovery. And it's wonderfully well known, and of course every scientist would love to get a Nobel prize. And there's a few other similar awards. They're for individual blockbuster discoveries.

I was the kind of kid who liked omnivorously almost all kinds of science - rock collections, fossils - and I like leaves, I like plants, and I like biology.