intellect and humanity could cause everything to happen in an
infinitely superior manner. Could one like the divine Julius--humane,
generous, broadest of view, deep thinking--wield such power, certainly every
human being would enjoy happiness.

But that which is thoughtlessly credited to a non-existent
intelligence should really be claimed and exercised by the human
race. It is ourselves who should direct our affairs, protecting
ourselves from pain, assisting ourselves, succouring and rendering our lives
happy. We must do for ourselves what
superstition has hitherto supposed an intelligence to do for us.
Nothing whatsoever is done for us. We are born naked, and not even protected
by a shaggy covering. Nothing is done for us.
The first and strongest command (using the word to convey the
idea only) that nature, the universe, our own bodies give, is to
do everything for ourselves. The sea does not make boats for us,
nor the earth of her own will build us hospitals. The injured lie bleeding,
and no invisible power lifts them up. The maidens were scorched in the midst
of their devotions, and their remains make a mound hundreds of yards long.
The infants perished in the snow, and the ravens tore their limbs. Those in
the theatre crushed each other to the death--agony. For how long, for how
many thousand years, must the earth and the sea, and the fire and the air,
utter these things and force them upon us before they are admitted in their
full significance?

These things speak with a voice of thunder. From every human being whose
body has been racked by pain; from every human being who has suffered from
accident or disease; from every human being drowned, burned, or slain by
negligence, there goes up a continually increasing cry louder than the
thunder.