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 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.

Any serious attempt to do anything worthwhile is ritualistic.

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.

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

To ensure the adoration of a theorem for any length of time, faith is not enough; a police force is needed as well.

Appearances often are deceiving.

All things are filled full of signs, and it is a wise man who can learn about one thing from another.

One thing alone not even God can do: to make undone whatever has been done.

Nothing is so easy to fake as the inner vision.

The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science.

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

A miracle entails a degree of irrationality—not because it shocks reason, but because it makes no appeal to it.