God is a crutch? Yeah, well, not believing in God is a coma.

Who is more irrational, the guy who believes in a God he can't see, or a guy who's offended by a God he doesn't believe in?

If we all die and there is no God, then it's just eternal unconsciousness, you'll never know, but if you're wrong... you'll know forever.

Get out of our schools God, get out of our textbooks God, get out of our government God, go away God, go away God, go away God, Katrina hits, God, where are you?

We should have a way of telling people they have bad breath without hurting their feelings. Well, I'm bored. Let's go brush our teeth. Or, I've got to make a phone call. Hold this gum in your mouth.

The way to stop political correctness is to not do it. If someone says, You offended me then you say I don't care! If they're offended by the truth, that's their issue!

Talk about sexist - have you ever, ever, heard someone come up to a woman and say 'find your masculine side?' And by the way women, if you find your masculine side - I'm not interested.

If God is a crutch, then atheism is a coma.

I suffer from two phobias: 1) Phobia-Phobia, the fear that you're unable to get scared, and 2) Xylophataquieopiaphobia, the fear of not pronouncing words correctly.

If the truth conflicts with my beliefs, I change my beliefs.

I don't hate cats...as long as they stay on the freeway, where they belong.

I think many of us live in a rut. Stuck in a groove we can't get out of, whether it's our job, family drama or the little frustrations of everyday life.

To excuse what can really produce good excuses is not Christian charity; it is only fairness. To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable in you.

Talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person you meet.

Inspiring music may fill the soul with heavenly thoughts, move one to righteous action, or speak peace to the soul.

That which we call civilization is merely the accumulated debris of a chilling number of bad nights.

Hidden in the glorious wildness like unmined gold.

In three strides Reaver was on her, his mouth crushing hers. “No more bullshit,” he said against her lips. “I want you. I think I’ve always wanted you.

Swollen in head, weak in legs, sharp in tongue but empty in belly.

On the set I make jokes I can't get too involved, or it turns into sentimental soup. I try to keep it light.

It is very common for us to desire most what we are least qualified to obtain.