I Grow Daily To Honor Facts More

To Me The Universe Was All Void Of Life, Of Purpose, Of Volition, Even Of Hostility; It Was One Huge, Dead, Immeasurable Steam-engine, Rolling On, In Its Dead Indifference, To Grind Me Limb From Limb. Oh Vast Gloomy, Solitary Golgotha, And Mill Of Death! Why Was The Living Banished Thither Companionless, Conscious? Why, If There Is No Devil; Nay, Unless The Devil Is Your God?

Man Always Worships Something; Always He Sees The Infinite Shadowed Forth In Something Finite; And Indeed Can And Must So See It In Any Finite Thing, Once Tempt Him Well To Fix His Eyes Thereon.

These Arabs, The Man Mahomet, And That One Century, - Is It Not As If A Spark Had Fallen, One Spark, On A World Of What Proves Explosive Powder, Blazes Heaven-high From Delhi To Granada! I Said, The Great Man Was Always As Lightning Out Of Heaven; The Rest Of Men Waited For Him Like Fuel, And Then They Too Would Flame.

My Whinstone House My Castle Is, I Have My Own Four Walls.

Battles, In These Ages, Are Transacted By Mechanism; With The Slightest Possible Development Of Human Individuality Or Spontaneity; Men Now Even Die, And Kill One Another, In An Artificial Manner.