"What presumption!—go back to Hell. And who, perspiring friend, art thou?"
"My name is Satan. I am looking for——"
"Take your penal apparatus and be off."
And Satan, laying hold of Memory, said: "Come along, you scoundrel! you make happiness wherever you are not."
Women of genius commonly have masculine faces, figures and manners. In transplanting brains to an alien soil God leaves a little of the original earth clinging to the roots.
The heels of Detection are sore from the toes of Remorse.
Twice we see Paradise. In youth we name it Life; in age, Youth.
There are but ten Commandments, true,
But that's no hardship, friend, to you;
The sins whereof no line is writ
You're not commanded to commit.
Fear of the darkness is more than an inherited superstition—it is at night, mostly, that the king thinks.
"Who art thou?" said Mercy.