The Twelve Hours

and thousands can be ruled more easily with a feather plume than ten dark dullards, who have no other conception of Me than that of a perhaps existing tyrant, or of a being, who before sucked the last drop of blood from His believer like a vampire, until He finally blessed Him with eternal life, kneeling and worshipping eternally on a light-cloud. – The Twelve Hours, Chapter 1, Paragraph 10

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