The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||
[“The Hebrews are heathens!” says Howison. He's]
“The Hebrews are heathens!” says Howison. He's
A Christian philosopher. I'm
A scurril agnostical chap, if you please,
Addicted too much to the crime
Of religious discussion in rhyme.
A Christian philosopher. I'm
A scurril agnostical chap, if you please,
Addicted too much to the crime
Of religious discussion in rhyme.
Though Hebrew and Howison cannot agree
On a modus vivendi—not they!—
Yet Heaven has had the designing of me,
And I haven't been reared in a way
To joy in the thick of the fray.
On a modus vivendi—not they!—
Yet Heaven has had the designing of me,
And I haven't been reared in a way
To joy in the thick of the fray.
For this of my creed is the soul and the gist,
And the truth of it I aver:
Who differs from me in his faith is an 'ist,
An 'ite, an 'ic, or an 'er—
And I'm down upon him or her!
And the truth of it I aver:
Who differs from me in his faith is an 'ist,
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And I'm down upon him or her!
Let Howison urge with perfunctory chin
Toleration—that's all very well,
But a roast is “nuts” to his nostril thin,
And he's running—I know by the smell—
A secret and personal Hell!
Toleration—that's all very well,
But a roast is “nuts” to his nostril thin,
And he's running—I know by the smell—
A secret and personal Hell!
Bissell Gip.
The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||