By The Power Of Truth,

Your Kiss Is Bitter With Cocaine.

There Are No "standards Of Right". Ethics Is Balderdash. Each Star Must Go On Its Own Orbit. To Hell With "moral Principle"; There Is No Such Thing.

Man Has The Right . . . To Play As He Will . . . To Think What He Will: To Speak What He Will: To Write What He Will: To Draw, Paint, Carve, Etch, Mould, Build As He Will: To Dress As He Will.

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.

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?