I'm pretty good at inventing phrases - you know, the sort of words that suddenly make you jump, almost as though you'd sat on a pin, they seem so new and exciting even though they're about something hypnopaedically* obvious. But that doesn't seem enough. It's not enough for the phrases to be good; what you make with them ought to be good too.

The gods are just. No doubt. But their code of law is dictated, in the last resort, by the people who organize society; Providence takes its cue from men.

The most intractable of our experiences is the experience of Time-the intuition of duration, combined with the thought of perpetual perishing.

I have always found that Angels have the vanity to speak of themselves as the only wise.

It is natural to believe in God when you're alone-- quite alone, in the night, thinking about death.

What drivel it all is!... A string of words called religion. Another string of words called philosophy. Half a dozen other stringscalled political ideals. And all the words either ambiguous or meaningless. And people getting so excited about them they'll murder their neighbours for using a word they don't happen to like. A word that probably doesn't mean as much as a good belch. Just a noise without even the excuse of gas on the stomach.

Religion is always a patron of the arts, but its taste is by no means impeccable.