Prometheus Heretofore Went Up To Heaven, And

The Insufferable Arrogance Of Human Beings To Think That Nature Was Made Solely For Their Benefit, As If It Was Conceivable That The Sun Had Been Set Afire Merely To Ripen Men's Apples And Head Their Cabbages.

The People Of Your World Became So Stupid And Rude That My Companions And I No Longer Enjoyed Teaching Them. You Must Surely Have Heard Of Us: We Were Called Oracles, Nymphs, Spirits, Fairies, Household Gods, Lemures, Larvas, Lamias, Sprites, Water-nymphs, Incubi, Shades, Spirits Of The Dead, Specters And Ghosts.

A Man Contains All That Is Needed To Make Up A Tree; Likewise, A Tree Contains All That Is Needed To Make Up A Man. Thus, Finally, All Things Meet In All Things, But We Need A Prometheus To Distill It.

Luckless Is The Country In Which The Symbols Of Procreation Are The Objects Of Shame, While The Agents Of Destruction Are Honored! And Yet You Call That Member Your Pudendum, Or Shameful Part, As If There Were Anything More Glorious Than Creating Life, Or Anything More Atrocious Than Taking It Away.

For An Apple Is In It Self A Little Universe; The Seed, Hotter Than The Other Parts Thereof, Is Its Sun, Which Diffuses About It Self That Natural Heat Which Preserves Its Globe: And In The Onion, The Germ Is The Little Sun Of That Little World, Which Vivifies And Nourishes The Vegetative Salt Of That Little Mass.