Tell The Truth, But Lead So Improbable

The Word Of Sin Is Restriction

To Me, Every Dirty Act Was Simply A Sacrament Of Sin, A Passionately Religious Protest Against Christianity, Which Was For Me The Symbol Of All Vileness, Meanness, Treachery, Falsehood And Oppression.

I Cling Unto The Burning Æthyr Like Lucifer That Fell Through The Abyss, And By The Fury Of His Flight Kindled The Air. And I Am Belial, For Having Seen The Rose Upon Thy Breast, I Have Denied God. And I Am Satan! I Am Satan! I Am Cast Out Upon A Burning Crag! And The Sea Boils About The Desolation Thereof. And Already The Vultures Gather, And Feast Upon My Flesh.

To Me A Book Is A Message From The Gods To Mankind; Or, If Not, Should Never Be Published At All. A Message From The Gods Should Be Delivered At Once. It Is Damnably Blasphemous To Talk About The Autumn Season And So On. How Dare The Author Or Publisher Demand A Price For Doing His Duty, The Highest And Most Honorable To Which A Man Can Be Called?

The True Will Is Thus Both Determined By Its Equations, And Free Because Those Equation Are Simply Its Own Name, Spelt Out Fully.