Philip José Farmer

The religions of Jesus, Paul, and Buddha had started to degenerate before their founders were cold in their graves. Just as St. Francis’ order had begun corrupting before its founder’s body was rotten.

Chance, another word for destiny.

Let's give this entity which you call soul another name. Soul has too many incorrect meanings for humans, too many verbal reverberations, too many contrary definitions.

Was destiny anything but chance? Probably. But the odds against this happening on Earth were infinity to one.

Burton, though an infidel, made it his business to investigate thoroughly every religion. Know a man’s faith, and you knew at least half the man. Know his wife, and you knew the other half.

Burton did not believe in miracles. Nothing happened that could not be explained by physical principles — if you knew all the facts.

Actors didn’t have to be politicians, but politicians had to be actors.

Actually, the situation was intolerable. But then it was surprising how much intolerableness a man could tolerate.

“It’s a nice toy and makes a lot of noise and looks impressive and will kill a man. But it’s wasteful and inefficient.”

“You make it sound like a congressman,” Sam said.

A miracle: a chance distribution of events, occurring one time in a billion.

All the human beings I met were either sure that there would be no afterlife or else that they would get preferential treatment in the hereafter.

Resurrection, like politics, makes strange bedfellows.