In This Book It Is Spoken Of

Love Is The Law, Love Under Will.

I Slept With Faith And Found A Corpse In My Arms On Awakening; I Drank And Danced All Night With Doubt And Found Her A Virgin In The Morning.

What Is It In Absinthe That Makes It A Separate Cult? The Effects Of Its Abuse Are Totally Distinct From Those Of Other Stimulants. Even In Ruin And In Degradation It Remains A Thing Apart: Its Victims Wear A Ghastly Aureole All Their Own, And In Their Peculiar Hell Yet Gloat With A Sinister Perversion Of Pride That They Are Not As Other Men.

They Look For A Victim To Chivy, And Howl Him Down, And Finally Lynch Him In A Sheer Storm Of Sexual Frenzy Which They Honestly Imagine To Be Moral Indignation, Patriotic Passion Or Some Equally Allowable Emotion, It May Be An Innocent Negro, A Jew Like Leo Frank, A Harmless Half-witted German; A Christ-like Idealist Of The Type Of Debs, An Enthusiastic Reformer Like Emma Goldman.

When One Walks, One Is Brought Into Touch First Of All With The Essential Relations Between One's Physical Powers And The Character Of The Country; One Is Compelled To See It As Its Natives Do. Then Every Man One Meets Is An Individual.