To Me A Book Is

This Universe Is A Wild Revel Of Atoms, Men, And Stars, Each One A Soul Of Light And Mirth, Horsed On Eternity.

There Is A Splendour In My Name Hidden And Glorious, As The Sun Of Midnight Is Ever The Son.

To Train The Mind To Move With The Maximum Speed And Energy, With The Utmost Possible Accuracy In The Chosen Direction, And With The Minimum Of Disturbance Or Friction. That Is Magick. To Stop The Mind Altogether. That Is Yoga.

She Knew That She Belonged To This Man, Body And Soul. Every Trace Of Shame Departed; It Was Burnt Out By The Fire That Consumed Her. She Gave Him A Thousand Opportunities; She Fought To Turn His Words To Serious Things. He Baffled Her With His Shallow Smile And Ready Tongue, That Twisted All Topics To Triviality. By Six O'clock She Was Morally On Her Knees Before Him; She Was Imploring Him To Stay To Dinner With Her. He Refused.

Inevitably Anyone With An Independent Mind Must Become 'one Who Resists Or Opposes Authority Or Established Conventions': A Rebel. If Enough People Come To Agree With, And Follow, The Rebel, We Now Have A Devil. Until, Of Course, Still More People Agree. And Then, Finally, We Have --- Greatness.