But if the end of the world is to be a piece of elaborate and artistic chiaroscuro, then there must be design in it, either human or divine.

The world, through mere time, might grow black like an old picture, or white like an old coat; but if it is turned into a particular piece of black and white art--then there is an artist.
If the distinction be not evident, I give an ordinary instance.

We constantly hear a particularly cosmic creed from the modern humanitarians; I use the word humanitarian in the ordinary sense, as meaning one who upholds the claims of all creatures against those of humanity.

They suggest that through the ages we have been growing more and more humane, that is to say, that one after another, groups or sections of beings, slaves, children, women, cows, or what not, have been gradually admitted to mercy or to justice.

They say that we once thought it right to eat men (we didn't); but I am not here concerned with their history, which is highly unhistorical.