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I request reasons for your golden rule, and ask the why and wherefore of your Ten Commands. Before none of your printed idols do I bend in acquiescence, and he who saith "thou shalt" to me is my mortal foe. I demand proof over all things and accepts with reservations even that which is true. I dip my forefinger in the watery blood of your impotent, mad redeemer and write over his thorn-torn brow: The true prince of evil - the king of the slaves. No hoary falsehood shall be a truth to me; no cult or dogma shall encramp my pen. I break away from all conventions. Alone, untrammelled. I raise up in stern invasion the standard of the strong. I gaze into the glassy eye of your fearsome Jehovah and pluck him by the beard; I uplift a broad-axe and split open his worm-eaten skull.

- Ragnar Redbeard, "Might Makes Right"