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What woman in her senses desires to be a breeder of drudges, lunatics, and sans-cullotes?
The very idea of “Labor” is in chains and yokes. There is no dignity in a bent back — no glory in a perspiring brow — no honor in greasy copper-riveted rags. There is nothing very delectable in picks, shovels, and calloused paws. ‘Dignity of Labor!’ — Dignity of hell!
O ye generations of Christ-deluded imbeciles! Ye swarms of moonstruck meeklings! Ye burnt out cinders of men! — ye bleeding lambs! One day! One day! ye shall be flung to the lions! Behold! I spit upon your Idols — your Opinions. Now would I pour molten hell through the ventricles of your soul.
“O wretched minds of men! O blind hearts! not to see in what darkness of life, and in what dangers, is spent this little term of human existence.
For as children are frightened of fancied objects in the gloom, so we in broad daylight, often fear what deserves no more to be feared, than the shadows the children dread in the dark, and fancy they must exist.”
P.S. Book II will be issued when circumstances demand it.
CHAPTER VI: THE LOGIC OF TO-DAY