“I believe neither in what I touch nor what I see. I only believe in what I do not see, and solely in what I feel.”

“What I believe is not what I say I believe; what I believe is what I do.”

Donald Miller book Blue Like Jazz: nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality

“I believe what I believe is what makes me what I am”

Rich Mullins (1955–1997) American christian musician

“Sometimes I do believe in predestination. I feel helpless to do anything but what I am compelled to do.”

Why the lucky stiff American computer programmer

“I may not believe in myself, but I believe in what I'm doing.”

Jimmy Page (1944) British guitarist of Led Zeppelin

“I do not think that I will ever reach a stage when I will say, "This is what I believe. Finished." What I believe is alive… and open to growth”

Madeleine L'Engle (1918–2007) American writer

“I neither deny nor affirm the immortality of man. I see no reason for believing in it, but, on the other hand, I have no means of disproving it.”

Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) English biologist and comparative anatomist

“I suspect that God is what you do, not what or who you believe in. When you do right, Jaxie, when you make good - well, then you are an instrument of God. Then you are joined to the divine, to the life force, to life itself. That's what I believe. That's what I hope for. And it's what I have missed. Think of it this way. When somebody does me a kindness, it enlarges me, adds to my life, you see? And not only mine - it adds to all life.”

Tim Winton (1960) Australian writer

“I see what is right and approve, but I do what is wrong.”

Anthony Burgess book A Clockwork Orange

“You see, if I could believe that I shall see and touch him again, I shall not have lost him. And if I have not lost him, I shall never have had a son. Because I am I through bereavement and because of it. I do not know what I was nor what I shall be. But because of death, I know that I am. And that is all the immortality of which intellect is capable and flesh should desire. Anything else is for peasants, clods, who could never have loved a son well enough to have lost him.”

William Faulkner (1897–1962) American writer