Prudery is ignorance.

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,- Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

There is nothing so absurd or ridiculous that has not at some time been said by some philosopher.

Little things are great to little men.

Take a dollar from a thousand and it will be a thousand no more.