I cannot understand how a man can appear in print claiming to disbelieve everything that he presupposes when he puts on the surplice. I feel it is a form of prostitution.

Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.

It may well be that by trickery of priests men have sometimes taken a mortal's voice for a god's. But it will not work the other way. No one who hears a god's voice takes it for a man's.

What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, 'What does it matter so long as they are contented?'

What the soul cries out for is the resurrection of the senses. Even in this life, matter would be nothing to us if it were not the source of sensations.

In the science, Evolution is a theory about changes; in the myth it is a fact about improvements.

Affection would not be affection if it was loudly and frequently expressed; to produce it in public is like getting your household furniture out for a move. It did very well in its place, but it looks shabby or tawdry or grotesque in the sunshine.