I've Long Stopped Worrying About Who Invented

I Myself Will Perhaps Cry Out With All The Rest, Looking At The Mother Embracing Her Child's Tormentor: 'just Art Thou, O Lord!' But I Do Not Want To Cry Out With Them. While There's Still Time, I Hasten To Defend Myself Against It, And Therefore I Absolutely Renounce All Higher Harmony. It Is Not Worth One Little Tear Of Even That One Tormented Child Who Beat Her Chest With Her Little Fist And Prayed To 'dear God' In A Stinking Outhouse With Her Unredeemed Tears!

I Will Put Up With Any Mockery Rather Than Pretend That I Am Satisfied When I Am Hungry.

There Is Nothing Higher And Stronger And More Wholesome And Useful For Life In Later Years Than Some Good Memory, Especially A Memory Connected With Childhood, With Home.

Oh, If Only I Did Nothing Simply As A Result Of Laziness.

Put Away Your Gods And Come And Worship Ours, Or We Will Kill You And Your Gods!