We Can No Longer Assert Any Single

Dreams Are Imperfections Of Sleep; Even So Is Consciousness The Imperfection Of Waking. Dreams Are Impurities In The Circulation Of The Blood; Even So It's Consciousness A Disorder Of Life. Dreams Are Without Proportion, Without Good Sense, Without Truth; So Also Is Consciousness. Awake From Dream, The Truth Is Known: Awake From Waking. The Truth Is: The Unknown

What Is It In Absinthe That Makes It A Separate Cult? The Effects Of Its Abuse Are Totally Distinct From Those Of Other Stimulants. Even In Ruin And In Degradation It Remains A Thing Apart: Its Victims Wear A Ghastly Aureole All Their Own, And In Their Peculiar Hell Yet Gloat With A Sinister Perversion Of Pride That They Are Not As Other Men.

Fortunately We Have Learnt To Combine These Ideas, Not In The Mutual Toleration Of Sub-contraries, But In The Affirmation Of Contraries, That Transcending Of The Laws Of Intellect Which Is Madness In The Ordinary Man, Genius In The Overman Who Hath Arrived To Strike Off More Fetters From Our Understanding.

This Serpent, Satan, Is Not The Enemy Of Man, But He Who Made Gods Of Our Race, Knowing Good And Evil; He Bade 'know Thyself!' And Taught Initiation.

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.