He was not the truth, but he was its precursor, and walked in advance of it.
One thing was wanting to him--the love of a God.

He saw him in mind, and he detested those phantoms which ages of darkness had taken for him, and adored in his stead.

He rent away with rage those clouds which prevent the divine idea from beaming purely on mankind; but his weakness was rather hatred against error, than faith in the Divinity.

The sentiment of religion, that sublime _resume_ of human thought; that reason, which, enlightened by enthusiasm, mounts to God as a flame, and unites itself with him in the unity of the creation with the Creator, of the ray with the focus--this, Voltaire never felt in his soul.

Thence sprung the results of his philosophy; it created neither morals, nor worship, nor charity; it only decomposed--destroyed.