Since the beginning of time, man has wrestled with the great questions of the universe. Humans have always sought to understand their place in creation. There is no society on earth that has not attempted to reckon with the human condition.
Balderdash. Generalizations like that are sure to sink your writing, because they almost always fall into one of two classes: the obvious and the wrong.
For starters, how do you know what has happened since the beginning of time? — is your knowledge of early Australopithecus robustus family structure extensive enough to let you compare it to Etruscan social organization? Have you read Incan religious texts alongside Baha'i tracts? Unless you've taken courses in omniscience, I'm guessing the answer's no. In that case, you're saying things you simply don't know, and certainly don't know any better than your audience. So it's either obvious to everyone, or a plain old lie.
Couching vacuous ideas in portentous prose impresses nobody. Simplicity, clarity, and precision will always win over ringing generalizations: don't think everything you write has to settle the mysteries of the ages in expressions worthy of Shakespeare. In the words of one of my favoritest writers in the whole wide world, Calvin Trillin, "When a man has nothing to say, the worst thing he can do is to say it memorably" ("Speak Softly," in Too Soon to Tell [New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995], p. 123).
