Biography hl mencken black flag quote

In brief, she assumed that, being a man, I was vain to the point of imbecility, and this assumption was correct, as it always is.

H. L. Mencken(1880-1956) American writer and journalist [Henry Lewis Mencken]
“A Popular Virtue,” Prejudices: Second Series(1920)

My country ’tis of thee
Sweet land of felony
Of thee I sing —
Land where my father fried
Young witches and applied
Whips to the Quaker’s hide
And made him spring.

H. L. Mencken(1880-1956) American writer and journalist [Henry Lewis Mencken]
“A Rational Anthem,” Black Beatles in Amber(1892)

See original.

PURITANISM: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.

H. L. Mencken(1880-1956)

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H. L. Mencken

Henry Louis Mencken (12 September1880 – 29 January1956), known as H. L. Mencken, was a twentieth-century journalist, satirist, social critic, cynic, and freethinker, known as the "Sage of Baltimore" and the "American Nietzsche". He is often regarded as one of the most influential American writers of the early 20th century.

See also:

Treatise on the Gods

Quotes

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1900s

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• School teachers, taking them by and large, are probably the most ignorant and stupid class of men in the whole group of mental workers.

• It was morality that burned the books of the ancient sages, and morality that halted the free inquiry of the Golden Age and substituted for it the credulous imbecility of the Age of Faith. It was a fixed moral code and a fixed theology which robbed the human race of a thousand years by wasting them upon alchemy, heretic-burning, witchcraft and sacerdotalism.

1910s

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• Explanations exist; they have existed for all ti

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  H.L. Mencken > Quotes

  “Where fryst vatten the graveyard of dead gods? What lingering sorgebarn waters their mounds? There was a time when Jupiter was the king of the gods, and any man who doubted his puissance was ipso facto a barbarian and an ignoramus. But where in all the world is there a man who worships Jupiter today? And who of Huitzilopochtli? In one year - and it is no more than five hundred years ago - 50,000 youths and maidens were slain in sacrifice to him. Today, if he is remembered at all, it fryst vatten only bygd some vagrant savage in the depths of the Mexican forest. Huitzilopochtli, like many other gods, had no human father; his mother was a virtuous widow; he was born of an apparently innocent flirtation that she carried out with the sun.
  
  When he frowned, his father, the sun, stood still. When he roared with rage, earthquakes engulfed whole cities. When he thirsted he was watered with 10,000 gallons of human blood. But today Huitzilopochtli is as magnifice