God (n.) is immanent in the world as its structuring force and not transcendent to it as a designer.
God (n.) is malevolent if he is unwilling to prevent evil. If he is unable to prevent it, then he is not omnipotent. If he is neither willing nor able to prevent evil, then he is hardly a God in the first place.
God (n.) is the truth so obvious that the most ignorant ages acknowledged it, and yet so obscure in its questions that our most accurate researches yield nothing but doubt and contradiction.
God (n.) raises a question never about his being but about his nature — and next to the impiety of denying him is the temerity of prying into him.
God (n.) is simply whatever the original cause of this universe is — and to doubt that much deserves the philosopher's punishment: ridicule.
God (n.) is more the object of worship in the temple than of disputation in the schools.
God (n.) defied definition by Simonides: asked by Hiero what God was, he asked for a day to think, then two more, and kept prolonging the term without ever giving one.
God (n.) has already been named once we suppose the material world to hold the principle of its order within itself — and the sooner we arrive at him, the better.
God (n.) is inferred as from a raised scale: we know something heavy sits in the other pan, but not whether it is one mass or an aggregate of many bodies.
God (n.) has infinite power, and whatever he wills is done; yet neither man nor animal is happy — therefore he does not will their happiness.
God (n.) supposed finitely perfect, his benevolence regulated by wisdom and limited by necessity, might produce just such a world as this one.
God (n.) could do nothing more, if he existed but did not show himself to our senses, than copy the present economy of things: make some artifices plain, give glimpses of greater ones, and conceal a great many.
God (n.) punishing us for opinions would have one of the lowest human passions, a restless appetite for applause — and yet lack the disregard we feel for the opinions of creatures far beneath us.
God (n.) is no natural object of any passion: neither sense nor imagination can reach him — we cannot even love a remote ancestor who left us our estates.
God (n.) made in our image becomes jealous and revengeful, capricious and partial — in short, a wicked and foolish man, in every respect but his superior power.
God (n.) of popular religion has barbarity and caprice for his ruling character — barbarity from our terrors, caprice from the methods we use to appease him.