“Ah, tolerant generation, who pay the prophets and fondle them who are sent unto you—Woe. How much better had it been for you and for them if only they had found death at your hands! Cursed be your Judas-embrace. Damned be your friendliness. It speaks not well for you; it lays a shattering condemnation on your prophets.

“Ah, generation that hears, but feels not, listens, but aches not, harks, but knows not pain nor the pleasurable healing-balm thereof. Tell me, does all fire extinguish save in Hell? Damned be this tepidity. Have we no fire to hate? Does no flame seize our prophets? Show me one burning heart. Let me see a single worldling afire with true passion, one Heavenling consumed with his God’s eternal burnings. In them I would find excuse for you, my cheating, shamming, joyless generation. Well has your own poet said, you live and die ‘ox-like, limp, and leaden-eyed.’”

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