Explore "The Transmigrations of a Soul" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What! Pixley, must I hear you call the roll / Of all the vices that infest your soul? / Was't not enough that lately you did bawl / Your money-worship in the ears of all?[A] / Still must you crack your brazen cheek to tell / That though a miser you're a sot as well? / Still must I hear how low your taste has sunk -- / From getting money down to getting drunk?[B]
Who worships money, damning all beside, / And shows his callous knees with pious pride, / Speaks with half-knowledge, for no man e'er scorns / His own possessions, be they coins or corns.