Sex Is The Sacred Song Of The

The Sin Which Is Unpardonable Is Knowingly And Wilfully To Reject Truth, To Fear Knowledge Lest That Knowledge Pander Not To Thy Prejudices.

This Universe Is A Wild Revel Of Atoms, Men, And Stars, Each One A Soul Of Light And Mirth, Horsed On Eternity.

Love Is A Virtue; It Grows Stronger And Purer And Less Selfish By Applying It To What It Loathes; But Theft Is A Vice Involving The Slave-idea That One's Neighbor Is Superior To Oneself.

As Soon As You Put Men Together, They Somehow Sink, Corporatively, Below The Level Of The Worst Of The Individuals Composing It. Collect Scholars On A Club Committee, Or Men Of Science On A Jury; All Their Virtues Vanish, And Their Vices Pop Out, Reinforced By The Self-confidence Which The Power Of Numbers Is Bound To Bestow.

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.