As I work in the afternoon on committing to paper some of my morning's thoughts, I find myself just about to close on the knotty question of whether I believe in God. In fact, I am about to type, 'I do not believe in God', when the sky goes black as ink, there is a thunderclap and a huge crash of thunder and a downpour of epic proportions. I never do complete the sentence.

Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years