He Was A Silent Fury

He Was A Killer, A Thing That Preyed, Living On The Things That Lived, Unaided, Alone, By Virtue Of His Own Strength And Prowess, Surviving Triumphantly In A Hostile Environment Where Only The Strong Survive.

Affluence Means Influence.

To Be Able To Forget Means Sanity.

Bog-lights, Vapors Of Mysticism, Psychic Overtones, Soul Orgies, Wailings Among The Shadows, Weird Gnosticisms, Veils And Tissues Of Words, Gibbering Subjectivisms, Gropings And Maunderings, Ontological Fantasies ... This Is The Stuff, The Phantasms Of Hope, That Fills Your Book Shelves. Look At Them, All The Sad Wraiths Of Sad Mad Men And Passionate Rebels — Your Schopenhauers, Your Strindbergs, Your Tolstois And Nietzsches. Come. Your Glass Is Empty. Fill And Forget.

They Were Firemakers! They Were Gods! [humans]