This is so difficult to believe

I don’t believe that I need a god

I don’t think I need to build up some image of a completely imaginary thing because I’m afraid

You begin to say to yourself, “have I been right believin’ these things? Is it right or is it wrong?” It’s quite frightenin’

I like the idea of somebody being specifically interested in me, you know, a god that you can talk to and tell things to, this was - this was cool, somebody to listen to you talkin’ about yourself all the time

It’s what you do yourself, you know, what you make of yourself

I mean, this world is-is-is a hard world

There’s this continuous finding out, rejecting, accepting for a while