Morality does not help me. I am a born antinomian. I am one of
those who are made for exceptions, not for laws. But while I see
that there is nothing wrong in what one does, I see that there is
something wrong in what one becomes. It is well to have learned
that.

Religion does not help me. The faith that others give to what is
unseen, I give to what one can touch, and look at. My gods dwell
in temples made with hands; and within the circle of actual
experience is my creed made perfect and complete: too complete, it
may be, for like many or all of those who have placed their heaven
in this earth, I have found in it not merely the beauty of heaven,
but the horror of hell also. When I think about religion at all, I
feel as if I would like to found an order for those who CANNOT
believe: the Confraternity of the Faithless, one might call it,
where on an altar, on which no taper burned, a priest, in whose
heart peace had no dwelling, might celebrate with unblessed bread
and a chalice empty of wine. Every thing to be true must become a
religion. And agnosticism should have its ritual no less than
faith. It has sown its martyrs, it should reap its saints, and
praise God daily for having hidden Himself from man. But whether
it be faith or agnosticism, it must be nothing external to me. Its
symbols must be of my own creating. Only that is spiritual which
makes its own form. If I may not find its secret within myself, I
shall never find it: if I have not got it already, it will never
come to me.

Reason does not help me. It tells me that the laws under which I
am convicted are wrong and unjust laws, and the system under which