If I Can Not Dance, I Want

The Philosophy Of Atheism Has Its Root In The Earth, In This Life; Its Aim Is The Emancipation Of The Human Race From All God-heads, Be They Judaic, Christian, Mohammedan, Buddhistic, Brahmanistic, Or What Not. Mankind Has Been Punished Long And Heavily For Having Created Its Gods, Nothing But Pain And Persecution, Have Been Man's Lot Since Gods Began. There Is But One Way Out Of This Blunder. Man Must Break His Fetters Which Have Chained Him To The Gates Of Heaven And Hell, So That He Can Begin To Fashion Out Of His Reawakened And Illumined Consciousness A New World Upon The Earth.

Publishers, Theatrical Managers, And Critics Ask Not For The Quality Inherent In Creative Art, But Will It Meet With A Good Sale, Will It Suit The Palate Of The People? Alas, This Palate Is Like A Dumping Ground; It Relishes Anything That Needs No Mental Mastication. As A Result, The Mediocre, The Ordinary, The Commonplace Represents The Chief Literary Output.

The Christian Religion And Morality Extols The Glory Of The Hereafter, And Therefore Remains Indifferent To The Horrors Of The Earth. Indeed, The Idea Of Self-denial And Of All That Makes For Pain And Sorrow Is Its Test Of Human Worth, Its Passport To The Entry Into Heaven.

I Was Called Before The Head Matron, A Tall Woman With A Stolid Face. She Began Taking My Pedigree. What Religion? Was The First Question. None, I Am An Atheist. Atheism Is Prohibited Here. You Will Have To Go To Church. I Replied That I Would Do Nothing Of The Kind. I Did Not Believe In Anything The Church Stood For And, Not Being A Hypocrite, I Would Not Attend.

Art Is A Part Of The Rebellion Against The Realities Of Its Unfulfilled Desire.