He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep.

If god is truly god, he is perfect, lacking nothing.

If there are none [gods], All our toil is without meaning.

What is god, what is not god, what is between man and god, who shall say?

Keep alive the light of justice, And much that men say in blame will pass you by.

Our ancestors... purged their guilt by banishment, not death. And by so doing, they stopped that endless vicious cycle of murder and revenge.

Delusive hope still points to distant good.