I think you should be proud of not being worse than just deeply introverted and socially maladjusted.

All was black, gloomy and awful. There was no light at the end of the tunnel - or if there was, it was an oncoming train.

Building a temple didn't mean you believed in gods, it just meant you believed in architecture.

Perhaps the magic would last, perhaps it wouldn't. But then again, what does?

The reaper does not listen to the harvest.

You can't trample infidels when you're a tortoise. I mean, all you could do is give them a meaningful look.

I particularly admire are Mark Twain and Jerome K. Jerome who wrote in a certain tone of voice which was humane and understanding of humanity, but always ready to annotate its little foibles. I think I'd lay my cards down on that, and say that it's that that I'm trying to do.