Every Man Has His Price.

It May Be That Until Now There Has Been No More Potent Means For Beautifying Man Himself Than Piety: It Can Turn Man Into So Much Art, Surface, Play Of Colors, Graciousness That His Sight No Longer Makes One Suffer.---

Every Day I Count Wasted In Which There Has Been No Dancing.

That Little Hypocrites And Half-crazed People Dare To Imagine That On Their Account The Laws Of Nature Are Constantly Broken; Such An Enhancement Of Every Kind Of Selfishness To Infinity, To Impudence, Cannot Be Branded With Sufficient Contempt. And Yet Christianity Owes Its Triumph To This Pitiable Flattery Of Personal Vanity.

We Take A Fancy To Something: And Scarcely Have We Thoroughly Taken A Fancy To It When That Tyrant In Us Calls Out: "give Me Thatin Sacrifice"--and We Give It.

I Can Still Stand On Life's Narrowest Footing: But Who Would I Be Were I To Show You This Art. Would You Like To See A Ropedancer?