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956 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1820
…of your finally being lodged in this mansion of misery, where only I would seek, where only I can succour you.� ‘You, demon!� � ‘Demon! � Harsh words! � Was it a demon or a human being placed you here? � Listen to me, Stanton; nay, wrap not yourself in that miserable blanket, � that cannot shut out my words. Believe me, were you folded in thunderclouds, you must hear me! Stanton, think of your misery. These bare walls � what do they present to the intellect or the senses?
How shall I � how shall the fraternity, and all the souls who are to escape from punishment by the merit of your prayers, answer to God for your horrible apostacy?� “Let them answer for themselves � let every one of us answer for ourselves � that is the dictate of reason.� “Of reason, my deluded child, � when had reason any thing to do with religion?�
Accustomed to look on and converse with all things revolting to nature and to man, � for ever exploring the mad-house, the jail, or the Inquisition, � the den of famine, the dungeon of crime, or the death-bed of despair, � his eyes had acquired a light and a language of their own � a light that none could gaze on, and a language that few dare understand.
“It is right,� he continued, “not only to have thoughts of this Being, but to express them by some outward acts. The inhabitants of the world you are about to see, call this, worship, � and they have adopted (a Satanic smile curled his lip as he spoke) very different modes; so different, that, in fact, there is but one point in which they all agree � that of making their religion a torment; � the religion of some prompting them to torture themselves, and the religion of some prompting them to torture others.�