Civilization Is What Makes You Sick.

Stay Firmly In Your Path And Dare; Be Wild Two Hours A Day!

Silence! I Am Learning To Know The Silence Of A Tahitian Night.

The Missionary Is No Longer A Man, A Conscience. He Is A Corpse, In The Hands Of A Confraternity, Without Family, Without Love, Without Any Of The Sentiments That Are Dear To Us. Emasculated, In A Sense, By His Vow Of Chastity, He Offers Us The Distressing Spectacle Of A Man Deformed And Impotent Or Engaged In A Stupid And Useless Struggle With The Sacred Needs Of The Flesh, A Struggle Which, Seven Times Out Of Ten, Leads Him To Sodomy, The Gallows, Or Prison.

I Am Entering Into The Truth, Into Nature.

The Critics Can Say Stupid Things And We Can Enjoy Them, If We Have The Legitimate Feeling Of Superiority - The Satisfaction Of A Duty Accomplished.