the restoration of passages, finally the collection, has been made
according to rules of criticism. Well, I do not refuse to concede to the
divinity of the sacred books a degree of faith proportioned to the
certainty of these rules. (§ 59.)

People agree that it is of the last importance to employ none but solid
arguments for the defence of a creed. Yet they would gladly persecute
those who attempt to cry down the bad arguments. What then, is it not
enough to be a Christian? Am I also to be one upon wrong grounds? (§57.)

The less probability a fact has, the more does the testimony of history
lose its weight. I should have no difficulty in believing a single
honest man who should tell me that the king had just won a complete
victory over the allies. But if all Paris were to assure me that a dead
man had come to life again, I should not believe a word of it. That a
historian should impose upon us, or that a whole people should be
mistaken--there is no miracle in that. (§46.)

What is God? A question that we put to children, and that philosophers
have much trouble to answer. We know the age at which a child ought to
learn to read, to sing, to dance, to begin Latin or geometry. It is only
in religion that you take no account of his capacity. He scarcely hears
what you say, before he is asked, What is God? It is at the same
instant, from the same lips, that he learns that there are ghosts,
goblins, were-wolves--and a God. (§25.)

The diversity of religious opinions has led the deists to invent an
argument that is perhaps more singular than sound. Cicero, having to
prove that the Romans were the most warlike people in the world,
adroitly draws this conclusion from the lips of their rivals. Gauls, to