One of the first things I was told was that God loved the poor, who, when they died, shot straight up to heaven like an arrow, which did not prevent him from largely ignoring them while they were alive: the poor knelt on the stone floor or, if they were lucky, in wooden pews that bruised their bones, whereas the rich, condemned to follow to their last sigh an apprenticeship in second-degree burns on the barbecue of Purgatory, had chairs with cushions and a little plaque bearing the owner’s name.

— a very long sentence from “the existance of god” from “the fat man and infinity” from António Lobo Antunes