When I am happy I am irreverent towards God. When I am unhappy I revere animals.

The realization that I vacillate between happily shaking my fists at the heavens and tearfully praying in the direction of the Earth seems to me quite delicious.

God exists only within the landscape of my disbelief. The moment my incredulity adjourns He vanishes.

God: the most desperate and widely recognized manifestation of our collective loneliness.

I am quite certain that God would breath a cosmic sigh of relief if people stopped believing.

God is an illusion born of our need for elusion.

I require God only to the extent that I relish blasphemy. I wish for my irreverence to have a sacred quality.

Perhaps I am ambitious after all.