Thou Hast The Keys Of Paradise, Oh,

War Has A Deeper And More Ineffable Relation To Hidden Grandeurs In Man Than Has Yet Been Deciphered.

Here Was The Secret Of Happiness, About Which Philosophers Had Disputed For So Many Ages, At Once Discovered; Happiness Might Now Be Bought For A Penny, And Carried In The Waistcoat-pocket; Portable Ecstasies Might Be Had Corked Up In A Pint-bottle; And Peace Of Mind Could Be Sent Down By The Mail.

Surely Everyone Is Aware Of The Divine Pleasures Which Attend A Wintry Fireside; Candles At Four O'clock, Warm Hearthrugs, Tea, A Fair Tea-maker, Shutters Closed, Curtains Flowing In Ample Draperies To The Floor, Whilst The Wind And Rain Are Raging Audibly Without.

Thou Hast The Keys Of Paradise, Oh, Just, Subtle, And Mighty Opium!

If Once A Man Indulges Himself In Murder, Very Soon He Comes To Think Little Of Robbing; And From Robbing He Comes Next To Drinking And Sabbath-breaking, And From That To Incivility And Procrastination.