The Part Of Me That Doubts

Whatever a man’s creed, there’s a good deal of him that does not believe it. Whatever a man’s crime, there was some of him that protested. Whatever a man’s goodness, it is flecked on the underside with ugly spots. Let us deal reverently with one another, and with awe; we are all so complex. It should not be so hard to believe in God, for man himself is scarcely less wonderful.

The universe is just as great and amazing inside of me as outside. Immanuel Kant marveled when he looked into his own heart, as when he looked up at the sky. So the stars over me are no less sublime than my soul which mirrors them; thunder and lightning among the clouds are matched by storms of passion within me as terrible as they; my memory is a greater thing than the British Museum, for it is a living museum; my will is greater than gravitation or electricity or gunpowder, for it can use them, and they cannot budge it; my imagination is more wondrous than the Vatican gallery, for its pictures come and go with instant swiftness, and my conscience is as mysterious and as majestic as the substance of God Himself.

Let a man reverence himself. Then he is not far from believing in God.


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