George Moore is coarse in comparison with Nietzsche. Nietzsche is no cynic; he is pure-hearted and noble by nature. Moore is voluptuous and vulgar. Both are avowed immoralists, and if the principle of an unrestrained egotism be right, George Moore is as good as Nietzsche, and any criminal given to the most abominable vices would not be worse than either. Nietzsche feels the decadence of the age and longs for health; but he attributes the cause of his own decadence to the Christian ideals of virtue, love, and sympathy with others. George Moore cherishes the same views; he says: "We are now in a period of decadence, growing steadily more and more acute" (p. 239). "Respectability ... continues to exercise a meretricious and enervating influence on literature" (p. 240). "Pity, that most vile of all vile virtues, has never been known to me. The great pagan world I love knew it not" (p. 200). "The philanthropist is the Nero of modern times" (p. 185). Both Nietzsche and Moore long for limitless freedom; but Moore seems more consistent, for he lacks the ideal of the overman and extends freedom to the sex relation, saying: "Marriage--what an abomination! Love--yes, but not marriage...freedom limitless" (p. 168-169). Moore loves art, but his view of art is cynical, and here too he is unlike Nietzsche; he says: "Art is not nature. Art is nature digested. Art is a sublime excrement" (p. 178). Both believe in the coming of a great social deluge. George Moore says: "The French revolution will compare with the revolution that is to come, that must come, that is inevitable, as a puddle on the road-side compares with the sea. Men will hang like pears on every lamp-post, in every great quarter of London, there will be an electric guillotine that will decapitate the rich like hogs in Chicago" (p. 343). Ideals are regarded as superstitions, and belief in ideas is deemed hypocritical. George Moore says: "In my heart of hearts I think myself a cut above you, because I do not believe in leaving the world better than I found it; and you, exquisitely hypocritical reader, think that you are a cut above me because you say you would leave the world better than you found it" (p. 354). The deeds of a man, his thoughts and aspirations, which constitute his spiritual self, count for nothing; the body alone is supposed to be real, and thus after death a pig is deemed more useful than a Socrates. Continues Moore: "The pig that is being slaughtered as I write this line will leave the world better than it found it, but you will leave only a putrid carcass fit for nothing but the grave" (p. 353). Wrong is idealized: "Injustice we worship; all that lifts us out of the miseries of life is the sublime fruit of injustice. "Man would not be man but for injustice" (p. 203).