Humans are itsy-bitsy, inconsequential specs of organic matter on an infinitesimal rock, drifting through space. In the cosmic sense, we're nothing. We don't matter.
But if you think that because of this lack of transcendent purpose, we should give in to despair, or take as we please, or exploit and burn and raze, think of it this way. We're itsy-bitsy, inconsequential specs of organic matter, and we're all alone. We're all alone on this drifting rock, and we may never leave. We may never see anyone else. For all intents and purpose, we're all we've got. We've got this planet, and we've got each other, and we don't have very much else. Unless you want to give away the only thing you have, you may as well get along with everyone else.
A word to the wise - when you only have a few friends, you don't trade them for the world.
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