Religion (n.) is not a department of life... it is something that enters into the whole of it.
Religion (n.) is real religion when it is the transformation of anxiety into laughter.
Religion (n.) without the lustiness of sex is joyless and abstract; sex without religion's self-abandonment is mechanical.
Religion (n.) in its standard brands is an exhausted mine: still full of ore, but very hard to dig.
Religion (n.) is a form of one-upmanship: it depends on dividing the saved from the damned, the true believers from the heretics.
Religion (n.) needs not a new bible but a new experience: a fresh feeling of what it is to be "I."
Religion (n.) is better taken as a medicine than as a diet: something for occasional use, like penicillin, not a daily meal.
Religion (n.) taken in excess is apt to breed evil.
Religion (n.) is a raft to cross on in haste: dally on it and the current carries you out to sea, stuck on the raft forever.
Religion (n.) is altogether a pointing, and it points neither at itself nor at God, since the idea of God is part of the religious apparatus too.
Religion (n.) disappears when it becomes real and effective, as the idea of doing something vanishes in actually doing it.
Religion (n.) without the state of mind behind it is a mere heap of doctrines, as meaningless as a babble of unintelligible words.
Religion (n.) and psychology hold each other in contempt — the pot calling the kettle black, since both have their bigotry, dogma and idolatry.
Religion (n.) is vindicated in doing without it, and its essential realities are shown in their being destroyed.
Religion (n.) commonly mistakes the symbol for the reality: it looks at the finger pointing the way, then sucks it for comfort instead of following it.
Religion (n.) as most of us have known it tries to make sense of life by fixation, pinning this passing world to an unchanging God.
Religion (n.) wants to secure the future beyond death; science wants to secure it until death — and both lose the present.
Religion (n.) speaks of the present, though both believers and scientists mistake it for a system of predictions about the beginning and end of things.
Religion (n.) grows, however garbled, from one sensation: being inseparable from the whole universe, one's self identical with the Great Self.