"We atheists," he went on fiercely, "understand
that if a man has a thing to bear, he must
bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under it--
why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian
comes whining to his God, or his saints; or, if they
won't help him, to his enemies--he can always
find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there
a rule to go by in your Bible, or your Missal, or
any of your canting theology books, that you
must come to me to tell you what to do?
Heavens and earth, man! Haven't I enough as
it is, without your laying your responsibilities on
my shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted
the uttermost farthing, and you'd better do
the same. After all, you'll only be killing an
atheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and
that's no great crime, surely!"
He broke off, panting for breath, and then
burst out again:
"And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that
p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't hurt me as much as you
do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the brains.
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