Love Is Cruel As The Grave.

It Is A Kind Of Blindness--poverty. We Can Only Grope Through Life When We Are Poor, Hitting And Maiming Ourselves Against Every Angle.

Honor Is An Old-world Thing; But It Smells Sweet To Those In Whose Hand It Is Strong.

I Have Met A Thousand Scamps; But I Never Met One Who Considered Himself So. Self-knowledge Isn't So Common.

Christianity Has Ever Been The Enemy Of Human Love; It Has Forever Cursed And Expelled And Crucified The One Passion Which Sweetens And Smiles On Human Life, Which Makes The Desert Blossom As The Rose, And Which Glorifies The Common Things And Common Ways Of Earth. It Made Of This, The Angel Of Life, A Shape Of Sin And Darkness ... Even In The Unions Which It Reluctantly Permitted, It Degraded And Dwarfed The Passion Which It Could Not Entirely Exclude, And Permitted It Coarsely To Exist For The Mere Necessity Of Procreation.

In Its Permission To Man To Render Subject To Him All Other Living Creatures Of The Earth, It Continued The Cruelty Of The Barbarian And The Pagan, And Endowed These With What Appeared A Divine Authority.