The Fact Has Not Created In Me

Two Or Three Angels Came Near To The Earth. They Saw A Fat Church. Little Black Streams Of People Came And Went In Continually. And The Angels Were Puzzled To Know Why The People Went Thus, And Why They Stayed So Long Within.

When It Occurs To A Man That Nature Does Not Regard Him As Important, And That She Feels She Would Not Maim The Universe By Disposing Of Him, He At First Wishes To Throw Bricks At The Temple, And He Hates Deeply The Fact That There Are No Bricks And No Temples.

But I Like It Because It Is Bitter, And Because It Is My Heart.

The Man Had Arrived At That Stage Of Drunkenness Where Affection Is Felt For The Universe.

When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man, Arrived At The Mountain-top He Cried: "woe To My Knowledge! I Intended To See Good White Lands And Bad Black Lands— But The Scene Is Grey.