If collected from the earliest times to the present day, infidel books would occupy far more than a thousand times the space of the one volume against which they are directed, and would certainly be much more numerous than all the works that all other “sacred” books ever had the honor of provoking, either for or against them. If all these books were placed in one library, and this single one set on a table in the middle of it, and a stranger were told that this book—affirmed to be, for the most part, the work of a number of unlearned and obscure men belonging to a despised nation called the Jews—had drawn upon itself, for its exposure, confutation, and destruction, this multitude of volumes, I imagine he would be inclined to say: “Then I presume this little book was annihilated long ago; though how it could be needful to write a thousandth part so much for any such purpose, I cannot comprehend. For if the book be what its authors say, surely it should not be difficult to show it to be so; and if so, what wonderful madness to write all these volumes.” How surprised would he then be to learn that they were felt not to be enough; that similar works were being multiplied every day, and never more actively than at the present time; and still to no purpose in disabusing mankind of this same frenzy! He would learn, indeed, that so far from accomplishing the object, the new volumes are little more than necessary to replace those of this fruitful, yet fruitless, literature, which is continually sinking into oblivion.
But the volume itself survives both friends and foes. Without being able to speak one word on its own behalf but what it has already said; without any power of explanation or rejoinder, in deprecation of the attacks made upon it, or to assist those who defend it, it passes along the ages in majestic silence. Impassive amidst all this tumult of controversy, in which it takes no part, it might be likened to some great ship floating down a mighty river like the Amazon or Orinoco, the shores of which are inhabited by various savage tribes. From every little creek or inlet, from every petty port or bay, sally flotillas of canoes, some seemingly friendly and some seemingly hostile, filled with warriors, in all the terrors of war paint, and their artillery of bows and arrows. They are hostile tribes; and soon turning their weapons against one another assail each other with great fury and mutual loss. Meantime, the noble vessel silently moves on through the scene of confusion, without deigning to alter its course or to fire a shot; perhaps here and there a seaman casts a compassionate glance from the lofty bulwarks, and wonders at the hardihood of those who come to assail his leviathan.—Roger's Superhuman Origin of the Bible.