“He was my reason for existence,Descended from my cherished dreamInto my human dull subsistence,An angel, sacred and supreme!”

“You’re too sacred,” he continued, and his voice was husked with emotion. “You’re the one. My sunlit angel. My Roses. Mine.”

“She was my sacred angel that I could never violate.Reira was my sanctuary.I needed something solid like that in this dirty, disappointing world.”

“When once we quit the basis of sensation, all is in the wind. To talk of immaterial existences is to talk of nothings. To say that the human soul, angels, god, are immaterial, is to say they are nothings, or that there is no god, no angels, no soul. I cannot reason otherwise: but I believe I am supported in my creed of materialism by Locke, Tracy, and Stewart.{Letter to John Adams, from Monticello, 15 August 1820}”

“I’m not descended from anybody. All my ancestors are ascending from me.”

“I am the Eschaton. I am not your God.I am descended from you, and exist in your future.Thou shalt not violate causality within my historic light cone. Or else.”