Life Is The Reward Of Virtue. And

Love Is Not Self-sacrifice, But The Most Profound Assertion Of Your Own Needs And Values. It Is For Your Own Happiness That You Need The Person You Love, And That Is The Greatest Compliment, The Greatest Tribute You Can Pay To That Person.

Whenever Anyone Accuses Some Person Of Being 'unfeeling,' He Means That That Person Is Just. He Means That That Person Has No Causeless Emotions And Will Not Grant Him A Feeling Which He Does Not Deserve. He Means That 'to Feel' Is To Go Against Reason, Against Moral Values, Against Reality.

The Good, Say The Mystics Of Spirit, Is God, A Being Whose Only Definition Is That He Is Beyond Man's Power To Conceive — A Definition That Invalidates Man's Consciousness And Nullifies His Concepts Of Existence. The Good, Say The Mystics Of Muscle, Is Society — A Thing Which They Define As An Organism That Possesses No Physical Form, A Super-being Embodied In No One In Particular And Everyone In General Except Yourself.... The Purpose Of Man's Life, Say Both, Is To Become An Abject Zombie Who Serves A Purpose He Does Not Know, For Reasons He Is Not To Question.

To The Extent To Which A Man Is Rational, Life Is The Premise Directing His Actions. To The Extent To Which He Is Irrational, The Premise Directing His Actions Is Death.

The ' Pleasure' Of Being Drunk Is Obviously The Pleasure Of Escaping From The Responsibility Of Consciousness.