Excess Always Carries It's Own Retributions.

In A Few Generations More, There Will Probably Be No Room At All Allowed For Animals On The Earth: No Need Of Them, No Toleration Of Them. An Immense Agony Will Have Then Ceased, But With It There Will Also Have Passed Away The Last Smile Of The World's Youth.

It Needs A Great Nature To Bear The Weight Of A Great Gratitude.

Christianity Has Ever Been The Enemy Of Human Love; It Has Forever Cursed And Expelled And Crucified The One Passion Which Sweetens And Smiles On Human Life, Which Makes The Desert Blossom As The Rose, And Which Glorifies The Common Things And Common Ways Of Earth. It Made Of This, The Angel Of Life, A Shape Of Sin And Darkness ... Even In The Unions Which It Reluctantly Permitted, It Degraded And Dwarfed The Passion Which It Could Not Entirely Exclude, And Permitted It Coarsely To Exist For The Mere Necessity Of Procreation.

Nature I Believe In. True Art Aims To, Represent Men And Women, Not As My Little Self Would Have Them, But As They Appear. My Heroes And Heroines I Want Not Extreme Types, All Good Or All Bad; But Human, Mortal--partly Good, Partly Bad. Realism I Need. Pure Mental Abstractions Have No Significance For Me.

For Pastrasche Was Their Alpha And Omega; Their Treasury And Granary; Their Store Of Gold And Wand Of Wealth; Their Bread-winner And Minister; Their Only Friend And Comforter. ... Pastrasche Was Their Dog.