If Religion Were True, Its Followers Would

We Shall See That At Which Dogs Howl In The Dark, And That At Which Cats Prick Up Their Ears After Midnight.

All I Want Is To Know Things. The Black Gulph Of The Infinite Is Before Me.

Religion As A Vital Issue Is Dead Except On Paper, And Whatever Beauty-baiting The Future May Witness Will Be The Work Of Greed And Trade, And Not Of Honest Cosmos-facing.

Man Is An Essentially Superstitious And Fearful Animal. Take Away The Herd's Christian Gods And Saints And They Will Without Failing Come To Worship...something Else.

Behold Great Whitman, Whose Licentious Line Delights The Rake, And Warms The Souls Of Swine; Whose Fever'd Fancy Shuns The Measur'd Pace, And Copies Ovid's Filth Without His Grace. In His Rough Brain A Genius Might Have Grown, Had He Not Sought To Play The Brute Alone; But Void Of Shame, He Let His Wit Run Wild, And Liv'd And Wrote As Adam's Bestial Child.