He That Loves Pleasure Must For Pleasure

I Count Religion But A Childish Toy, And Hold There Is No Sin But Ignorance.

Is It Not Passing Brave To Be A King And Ride In Triumph Through Persepolis?

Things That Are Not At All, Are Never Lost.

Till Swollen With Cunning, Of A Self-conceit, His Waxen Wings Did Mount Above His Reach, And, Melting, Heavens Conspir'd His Overthrow.

Confess And Be Hanged.