The world cannot be an accident. Everything that happens must have a cause — ultimately, therefore, a purpose. Since you exist, God must have created you, and since He created you a conscious being, He must be conscious. The greater doesn’t come out of the less. He created you, and He will kill you, for His own purpose. But that purpose is inscrutable. It is in the nature of things that you can never discover it, and perhaps even if you did discover it you would be averse to it. Your life and death, it may be, are a single note in the eternal orchestra that plays for His diversion. And suppose you don’t like the tune?
If one gets on with the job that lies to hand, the ultimate purpose of the job fades into insignificance.
You can go on blackening people’s reputations for years, and everyone will believe you, more or less, even when it’s perfectly obvious that you’re lying.
Women who don’t marry wither up — they wither up like aspidistras in back-parlour windows; and the devilish thing is that they don’t even know that they’re withering.
This life is only a time of trial — just to strengthen us and teach us to be patient, so that we’ll be ready for Heaven when the time comes.
The great modern commandment — the eleventh commandment which has wiped out all the others: ‘Thou shalt not lose thy job.’
The best brothel-scenes in literature have been written, without exception, by pious believers or pious unbelievers.