Lovers of death are they,—not lovers of life—and of storm and stress.
Such shall come to thee with torch unlit for fire. My voice cries out over the teeming earth for lives, for the lives and blood of the crowned kings of men. Remember that I Who cry have shown also the way to answer. For of every kind has the mother been the first, for proection of her flock, to leap to death.
Religion, called by whatever name, has been ever the love of death. But to-day the flame of renunciation shall be lighted in My lands and consume men with a psssion beyond control of thought. Then shall My people thirst for self-sacrifice as others for enjoyment. Then shall labour and suffering and service be counted sweet instead of bitter. For this age is great in time, and I, even I, Kali, am the Mother of the nations.
Shrink not from defeat, embrace despair. Pain is not different from pleasure, if I will both. Rejoice
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