When I became convinced that the universe is natural, that all the ghosts and gods are myths, there entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood the sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom. The walls of my prison crumbled and fell. The dungeon was flooded with light and all the bolts and bars and manacles became dust.

It cannot be too often repeated, that truth scorns the assistance of miracle.

And why does this same God tell me how to raise my children when he had to drown his?

I do not see how it is possible for an intelligent human being to conclude that the Song of Solomon is the work of God, and that the tragedy of Lear was the work of an uninspired man.

This, in my judgment, is the highest philosophy: First, do not regret having lost yesterday; second, do not fear that you will lose tomorrow; third, enjoy today.

Fear paints pictures of ghosts and hangs them in the gallery of ignorance.

Joy is wealth and love is the legal tender of the soul.