Oh, the doubts of a materialist are not worth a dump.

Sunday has taught me the last and the worst doubts, the doubts of a spiritualist.

I am a Buddhist, I suppose; and Buddhism is not a creed, it is a doubt.

My poor dear Bull, I do not believe that you really have a face.

I have not faith enough to believe in matter." Syme's eyes were still fixed upon the errant orb, which, reddened in the evening light, looked like some rosier and more innocent world.
"Have you noticed an odd thing," he said, "about all your descriptions?
Each man of you finds Sunday quite different, yet each man of you can only find one thing to compare him to--the universe itself.