“Satan is not going to leave. The only way to get him out is to invite God in, and God is not welcome in my mother's house.”

“Daddy,' my mother asked, 'aren’t we going to run out of gas?'No there’s plenty of god-damned gas.'Where are we going?'I’m going to get some god-damed oranges!”

“Suppose neutral angels were able to talk, Yahweh and Lucifer – God and Satan, to use their popular titles – into settling out of court. What would be the terms of the compromise? Specifically, how would they divide the assets of their early kingdom?Would God be satisfied the loaves and fishes and itty-bitty thimbles of Communion wine, while Satan to have the red-eye gravy, eighteen-ounce New York Stakes, and buckets of chilled champagne? Would God really accept twice-a-month lovemaking for procreative purposes and give Satan the all night, no-holds-barred, nasty “can’t-get-enough-of-you” hot-as-hell-fucks?Think about it. Would Satan get New Orleans, Bangkok, and the French Riviera and God get Salt Lake City? Satan get ice hockey, God get horseshoes? God get bingo, Satan get stud poker? Satan get LSD; God, Prozac? God get Neil Simon; Satan Oscar Wilde?”

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring.”

“Once again...welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.”

“His father is out cutting wood, so he goes to his mother.'Mother, I must away and see the world, or I shall go mad.'Says his mother, 'If you must go, go you must, and God go with you! I will bake you a cake. Will you have a little cake with my blessing, or a big cake with my cursing?'Says Jack, 'Make me a big cake, mother. It will last longer.'His mother makes him a big cake, and he sets out. And she is standing on the roof of the house, calling curses after him as far as she can see him.”