The Benefits Brought To The

The Burden Of All Song And Praise "unto The Highest" Has Been That God Stands For Justice And Mercy. Yet Injustice Among Men Is Ever On The Increase; The Outrages Committed Against The Masses In This Country Alone Would Seem Enough To Overflow The Very Heavens. But Where Are The Gods To Make An End To All These Horrors, These Wrongs, This Inhumanity To Man? No, Not The Gods, But Man Must Rise In His Mighty Wrath. He, Deceived By All The Deities, Betrayed By Their Emissaries, He, Himself, Must Undertake To Usher In Justice Upon The Earth.

Love Needs No Protection; It Is Its Own Protection.

Man Must Get Back To Himself Before He Can Learn His Relation To His Fellows. Prometheus Chained To The Rock Of Ages Is Doomed To Remain The Prey Of The Vultures Of Darkness. Unbind Prometheus, And You Dispel The Night And Its Horrors.

Rather Would I Have The Love Songs Of Romantic Ages, Rather Don Juan And Madame Venus, Rather An Elopement By Ladder And Rope On A Moonlight Night, Followed By The Father's Curse, Mother's Moans, And The Moral Comments Of Neighbors, Than Correctness And Propriety Measured By Yardsticks.

Publishers, Theatrical Managers, And Critics Ask Not For The Quality Inherent In Creative Art, But Will It Meet With A Good Sale, Will It Suit The Palate Of The People? Alas, This Palate Is Like A Dumping Ground; It Relishes Anything That Needs No Mental Mastication. As A Result, The Mediocre, The Ordinary, The Commonplace Represents The Chief Literary Output.