I Love The Flesh. I'm A Pagan.

Fear Urged Him To Go Back, But Growth Drove Him On.

Pursuit And Possession Are Accompanied By States Of Consciousness So Wide Apart That They Can Never Be United.

Everything Is Good . . . As Long As It Is Unpossessed. Satiety And Possession Are Death's Horses They Run In Span.

Life? Bah! It Has No Value. Of Cheap Things It Is The Cheapest. Everywhere It Goes Begging. Nature Spills It Out With A Lavish Hand. Where There Is Room For One Life, She Sows A Thousand Lives, And It's Life Eats Life Till The Strongest And Most Piggish Life Is Left.

The Hand Descended. Nearer And Nearer It Came. It Touched The Ends Of His Upstanding Hair. He Shrank Down Under It. It Followed Down After Him, Pressing More Closely Against Him. Shrinking, Almost Shivering. He Still Managed To Hold Himself Together. It Was A Torment, This Hand That Touched Him And Violated His Instinct. He Could Not Forget In A Day All The Evil That Had Been Wrought Him At The Hands Of Men.