Love Is The Law, Love Under Will.

The Supreme Satisfaction Is To Be Able To Despise One's Neighbor And This Fact Goes Far To Account For Religious Intolerance. It Is Evidently Consoling To Reflect That The People Next Door Are Headed For Hell.

I Admit That My Visions Can Never Mean To Other Men As Much As They Do To Me. I Do Not Regret This. All I Ask Is That My Results Should Convince Seekers After Truth That There Is Beyond Doubt Something Worth While Seeking, Attainable By Methods More Or Less Like Mine. I Do Not Want To Father A Flock, To Be The Fetish Of Fools And Fanatics, Or The Founder Of A Faith Whose Followers Are Content To Echo My Opinions. I Want Each Man To Cut His Own Way Through The Jungle.

If One Had To Worry About One's Actions In Respect Of Other People's Ideas, One Might As Well Be Buried Alive In An Antheap Or Married To An Ambitious Violinist. Whether That Man Is The Prime Minister, Modifying His Opinions To Catch Votes, Or A Bourgeois In Terror Lest Some Harmless Act Should Be Misunderstood And Outrage Some Petty Convention, That Man Is An Inferior Man And I Do Not Want To Have Anything To Do With Him Any More Than I Want To Eat Canned Salmon.

What Is It In Absinthe That Makes It A Separate Cult? The Effects Of Its Abuse Are Totally Distinct From Those Of Other Stimulants. Even In Ruin And In Degradation It Remains A Thing Apart: Its Victims Wear A Ghastly Aureole All Their Own, And In Their Peculiar Hell Yet Gloat With A Sinister Perversion Of Pride That They Are Not As Other Men.

He Shall Fall Down Into A Pit Called Because, And There He Shall Perish With The Dogs Of Reason.