Man is always a wizard to man, and the social world is at first magical.

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears the truth.

In the society of men, the truth resides now less in what things are than in what they are not. Our social realities are so ugly if seen in the light of exiled truth, and beauty is almost no longer possible if it is not a lie.

The believer in magic and miracles reflects on how to impose a law on nature—and, in brief, the religious cult is the outcome of this reflection.

To ensure the adoration of a theorem for any length of time, faith is not enough; a police force is needed as well.

The Mughal’s nature is such that they demand miracles, but if a miracle were to be performed by some upright follower of our religion, they would say that it had been brought about by magic and sorcery. They would strike him down with spears or would stone him to death.

To blow and to swallow at the same time is not easy; I cannot at the same time be here and also there.

Have you ever, looking up, seen a cloud like to a centaur, a leopard, a wolf, or a bull?

Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost.

Superstitions are habits rather than beliefs.

Nothing is so easy to fake as the inner vision.

The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science.

The fact is certain because it is impossible.