Lust's Passion Will Be Served;

How Delightful Are The Pleasures Of The Imagination! In Those Delectable Moments, The Whole World Is Ours; Not A Single Creature Resists Us, We Devastate The World, We Repopulate It With New Objects Which, In Turn, We Immolate. The Means To Every Crime Is Ours, And We Employ Them All, We Multiply The Horror A Hundredfold.

Get It Into Your Head Once And For All, My Simple And Very Fainthearted Fellow, That What Fools Call Humanness Is Nothing But A Weakness Born Of Fear And Egoism; That This Chimerical Virtue, Enslaving Only Weak Men, Is Unknown To Those Whose Character Is Formed By Stoicism, Courage, And Philosophy.

Dread Not Infanticide; The Crime Is Imaginary: We Are Always Mistress Of What We Carry In Our Womb, And We Do No More Harm In Destroying This Kind Of Matter Than In Evacuating Another, By Medicines, When We Feel The Need.

Are Wars Anything But The Means Whereby A Nation Is Nourished, Whereby It Is Strengthened, Whereby It Is Buttressed?

It Has, Moreover, Been Proven That Horror, Nastiness, And The Frightful Are What Give Pleasure When One Fornicates. Beauty Is A Simple Thing; Ugliness Is The Exceptional Thing. And Fiery Imaginations, No Doubt, Always Prefer The Extraordinary Thing To The Simple Thing.