Of All The Blessings Which To Man

of all the blessings which to man kind progress doth impart one stands supreme i mean the an imal without a heart. Huge this collective pseudobeast (sans either pain or joy) does nothing except preexist its hoi in its polloi and if sometimes he's prodded forth to exercise her vote (or made by threats of somethings worth than death to change their coat -which something as you'll never guess in fifty thousand years equals the quote and unquote loss of liberty my dears- or even is compelled to fight itself from tame to teem) still doth our hero contemplate in raptures of undream that strictly(and how)scienti fic land of supernod where freedom is compulsory and only man is god. Without a heart the animal is very very kind so kind it wouldn't like a soul and couldn't use a mind