The voice of honest indignation is the voice of God.
Where there is money there is no art.
Where cheating is, there's mischief there.
I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear. How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls; And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls. But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.
Want of money and the distress of a thief can never be alleged as the cause of his thieving, for many honest people endure greater hardships with fortitude. We must therefore seek the cause elsewhere than in want of money, for that is the miser's passion, not the thief s.
Mere enthusiasm is the all in all.
I cry, Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind!
A dead body revenges not injuries.
The Stolen and Perverted Writings of Homer & Ovid, of Plato & Cicero, which all men ought to contemn, are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible
What has reason to do with the art of painting?
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,Dreaming o'er the joys of night.Sleep, sleep: in thy sleepLittle sorrows sit and weep.
I love hanging and drawing and quartering Every bit as well as war and slaughtering.
The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.
How have you left the ancient love That bards of old enjoyed in you! The languid strings do scarcely move! The sound is forced, the notes are few!
I am going to that country which I have all my life wished to see.
He who shall teach the child to doubtThe rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.
[L]et light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day. O radiant morning.
General good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocite, flatterer.
Auguries of innocence "The emmet's inch and eagle's mile Make lame philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
All the destruction in Christian Europe has arisen from deism, which is natural religion.
The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.
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