Heaven forbids, it is true, certain gratifications, but there are ways and means of compounding such matters.

The only people who can be excused for letting a bad book loose on the world are the poor devils who have to write for a living.

Then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place But none, I think, do there embrace.

There are pretenders to piety as well as to courage.

I might, by chance, write something just as shoddy; But then I wouldn't show it to everybody.

As the purpose of comedy is to correct the vices of men, I see no reason why anyone should be exempt.

And knowing money is a root of evil, in Christian charity, he'd take away whatever things may hinder your salvation.