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Georg Buchner

"The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world."

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"The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world."

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Amber Hurdle

"I have only ever made one prayer to God, a very short one: O Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it."

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Amber Hurdle

"I read the book of Job last night, I don't think God comes out well in it."

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Amber Hurdle

"Call it Nature, Fate, Fortune; all these are names of the one and selfsame God."

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Amber Hurdle

"What if God exists except it turns out he doesn't really like people very much?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Anyone who truly loves God travels securely."

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Amber Hurdle

"God is a metaphor for that which trancends all levels of intellectual thought. It's as simple as that."

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Amber Hurdle

"Sometimes I wonder why God ever trusts talent in the hands of women, they usually make such an infernal mess of it. I think He must do it as a sort of ghastly joke."

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Amber Hurdle

"Teach him to think for himself? Oh, my God, teach him rather to think like other people!"

God,
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Amber Hurdle

"Refuting anything in this worldly life is tantamount to refuting God. Even refuting stealing is tantamount to refuting God. This Stealing is a kind of laxative. It cleanses us and leaves."

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Amber Hurdle

"If God created us in his own image, we have more than reciprocated."

God,

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Georg Buchner
"The breath of an aristocrat is the death rattle of freedom."
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Georg Buchner
"Your words smell of corpses."
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Georg Buchner
"You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie."
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Georg Buchner
"The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled."
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Georg Buchner
"Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!"
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Georg Buchner
"Raise your eyes and count the small gang of your oppressors who are only strong through the blood they suck from you and through your arms which you lend them unwillingly."
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Georg Buchner
"How many women does one need to sing the scale of love all the way up and down?"
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Georg Buchner
"The statue of Freedom has not been cast yet, the furnace is hot, we can all still burn our fingers."
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Georg Buchner
"The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever."
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Georg Buchner
"There are only Epicureans, either crude or refined; Christ was the most refined."
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