"Away down in the bottom of my heart, I believe I was always more or
less skeptical about 'God;' skepticism grew as an undercurrent, all
through my early youth, but it was controlled and covered by the
emotional elements in my religious growth. When I was sixteen I joined
the church and was asked if I loved God. I replied 'Yes,' as was
customary and expected. But instantly with a flash something spoke
within me, 'No, you do not.' I was haunted for a long time with shame
and remorse for my falsehood and for my wickedness in not loving God,
mingled with fear that there might be an avenging God who would punish
me in some terrible way.... At nineteen, I had an attack of tonsilitis.
Before I had quite recovered, I heard told a story of a brute who had
kicked his wife down-stairs, and then continued the operation until she
became insensible. I felt the horror of the thing keenly. Instantly
this thought flashed through my mind: 'I have no use for a God who
permits such things.' This experience was followed by months of
stoical indifference to the God of my previous life, mingled with
feelings of positive dislike and a somewhat proud defiance of him. I
still thought there might be a God. If so he would probably damn me,
but I should have to stand it. I felt very little fear and no desire
to propitiate him. I have never had any personal relations with him
since this painful experience."

The second case exemplifies how small an additional stimulus will
overthrow the mind into a new state of equilibrium when the process of
preparation and incubation has proceeded far enough. It is like the
proverbial last straw added to the camel's burden, or that touch of a
needle which makes the salt in a supersaturated fluid suddenly begin to
crystallize out.

Tolstoy writes: "S., a frank and intelligent man, told me as follows
how he ceased to believe:--

"He was twenty-six years old when one day on a hunting expedition, the
time for sleep having come, he set himself to pray according to the
custom he had held from childhood.

"His brother, who was hunting with him, lay upon the hay and looked at
him. When S. had finished his prayer and was turning to sleep, the
brother said, 'Do you still keep up that thing?' Nothing more was said.
But since that day, now more than thirty years ago, S. has never
prayed again; he never takes communion, and does not go to church. All
this, not because he became acquainted with convictions