Words cluster like chromosomes, determining the procedure.

In contrast to this hellish but magnificent sight, the turbid water brewed a microscopic tale. Here, organic molecules were born from lightning flashes and cosmic rays, and they collided, fused, broke apart again — a long-lasting game played with building blocks for five hundred million years. Finally, a chain of organic molecules, trembling, split into two strands. The strands attracted other molecules around them until two identical copies of the original were made, and these split apart again and replicated themselves.… In this game of building blocks, the probability of producing such a self-replicating chain of organic molecules was so minuscule that it was as if a tornado had picked up a pile of metallic trash and deposited it as a fully-assembled Mercedes-Benz. But it happened, and so, a breathtaking history of 3.5 billion years had begun.

In the beginning was the word. The word proselytised the sea with its message, copying itself unceasingly and forever. The word discovered how to rearrange chemicals so as to capture little eddies in the stream of entropy and make them live. The word transformed the land surface of the planet from a dusty hell to a verdant paradise. The word eventually blossomed and became sufficiendy ingenious to build a porridgy contraption called a human brain that could discover and be aware of the word itself. My porridgy contraption boggles every time I think this thought.

Primitive “bondmaker” molecules, early precursors of the RNA system, which bind nucleotides together, came into existence way before the first cells. So, too, did bondmaker molecules that developed the ability to join nucleotides together following a template — “copymakers.” These bondmakers and copymakers came into existence through random molecular re-sorting. It was the existence of copymaker molecules that set the process of evolution into motion. Natural selection chiseled living things into existence, but the requisite molecules for evolution — the bondmakers and copymakers — existed before life itself.

Words are animals, alive with a will of their own

"En la naturaleza no hay palabras, solamente iniciales. Al releer las nuevas "palabras", descubrimos que no son sino iniciales de otras"

A four-letter alphabet called DNA.

Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.

A Word that Breathes Distinctly
Has not the Power to Die

What do you think was the very first sound to become a word, a meaning?' ... And then I realized what the first word must have been: ma, the sound of a baby smacking its lips in search of her mother's breast. Ma, ma, ma. Then the mother decided that was her name and she began to speak, too. She taught the baby to be careful: sky, fire, tiger. A mother is always the beginning. She is how things begin.

The poets made all the words and therefore language is the archives of history, and, if we must say it, a sort of tomb of the muses. For though the origin of most of our words is forgotten, each word was at first a stroke of genius, and obtained currency because for the moment it symbolized the world to the first speaker and to the hearer. The etymologist finds the deadest word to have been once a brilliant picture. Language is fossil poetry.

Words create worlds.

In the beginning was the word, and it was spoken.

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.