No man has known madness save in the chain-like spell that life casts across each man’s shadow. For man was born of two strange passions. The dark pulsing beast, forever pounding, pounding at the portals of the heart, which in daylight cries for fury and an end to rest. And then the bog-like spell of night, the gentle lover, who lulls all hope of wandering from the guileful by sweet temptations of woman’s flesh. Never, never, screams the youth defiant, who seeks to cross great oceans, hear the voices of ten million men, see all the faces that the earth can bear, and know the very core of man through the channels of his many tongues.