Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear.

In the society of men, the truth resides now less in what things are than in what they are not. Our social realities are so ugly if seen in the light of exiled truth, and beauty is almost no longer possible if it is not a lie.

The Mughal’s nature is such that they demand miracles, but if a miracle were to be performed by some upright follower of our religion, they would say that it had been brought about by magic and sorcery. They would strike him down with spears or would stone him to death.

God is alive. Magic is afoot.

The believer in magic and miracles reflects on how to impose a law on nature—and, in brief, the religious cult is the outcome of this reflection.

Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost.

There are times when reality becomes too complex for oral communication. But legend gives it a form by which it pervades the whole world.

Men willingly believe what they wish.

The mind is led on, step by step, to defeat its own logic.

Appearances often are deceiving.

Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.

There is nothing that man fears more than the touch of the unknown. He wants to see what is reaching toward him and to be able to recognize or at least classify it. Man always tends to avoid physical contact with anything strange.

Man is always a wizard to man, and the social world is at first magical.