We May Well Lie With What Seems

Farewell Unhappy, Hopeless, Blasphemous Rome! The Wrath Of God Has Come Upon You, As You Deserve. We Cared For Babylon, And She Is Not Healed; Let Us Then Leave Her, That She May Become The Habitation Of Dragons, Spectres, And Witches.

Christ Is The Master; The Scriptures Are Only The Servant.

If I Could Believe That God Was Not Angry With Me, I Would Stand On My Head For Joy.

It Cannot, Indeed, Be Denied, That A Good Man Is More Worthy Of Love Than A Bad One.

The Pope Is A Mere Tormentor Of Conscience. The Assembly Of His Greased And Religious Crew In Praying Was Altogether Like The Croaking Of Frogs, Which Edified Nothing At All.