He served an institution which insisted on having all of him, even that part of him she had no use for, his manhood. That Mother Church required from him as a sacrifice to her power as an institution, and thus wasted him, stamped his being out of being, made sure that when he stopped he would be stopped forever.
These days, you can form a congregation simply based on washing-machine instructions.
Religion for the people — opium for the aching limb.
There isn’t anything so grotesque or so incredible that the average human being can’t believe it.
My gods dwell in temples made with hands; and within the circle of actual experience is my creed made perfect and complete: too complete, it may be, for like many or all of those who have placed their heaven in this earth, I have found in it not merely the beauty of heaven, but the horror of hell also.
— Captain, do you mind if I say grace?
— Only if you say it out loud.
Fairy tales build churches.