High Original Genius Is Always Ridiculed On

In Every Department Of Life--in Its Business And In Its Pleasures, In Its Beliefs And In Its Theories, In Its Material Developments And In Its Spiritual Connections--we Thank God That We Are Not Like Our Fathers.

Woe To The Unlucky Man Who As A Child Is Taught, Even As A Portion Of His Creed, What His Grown Reason Must Forswear.

Wild Animals Never Kill For Sport. Man Is The Only One To Whom The Torture And Death Of His Fellow Creatures Is Amusing In Itself.

Who Shall Say That Those Poor Peasants Were Not Acting In The Spirit We Most Venerate, Most Adore; That Theirs Was Not The True Heart Language Which We Cannot Choose But Love? And What Has Been Their Reward? They Have Sent Down Their Name To Be The By-word Of All After Ages; The Worst Reproach Of The Worst Men A Name Convertible With Atheism And Devil-worship.

There Is Always A Part Of Our Being Into Which Those Who Are Dearer To Us Far Than Our Own Lives Are Yet Unable To Enter.