There is no money in poetry, but then there is no poetry in money either.
When the doors of perception are cleansed, man will see things as they truly are, infinite.
Religions change; beer and wine remain.
Christ died for our sins. Dare we make his martyrdom meaningless by not committing them?
What if there had been room at the inn?
I detest converts almost as much as I do missionaries.
The best way to convince a fool that he is wrong is to let him have his own way.
Too bad the only people who know how to run the country are busy driving cabs and cutting hair.