Outside Of Paris, There Is No Hope

Sometimes I Feel Something Akin To Rage At The Corrupted Morals Of This Age!

The Ancients, Sir, Are The Ancients, And We Are The People Of Today.

There Are Pretenders To Piety As Well As To Courage.

No Reason Makes It Right To Shun Accepted Ways From Stubborn Spite; And We May Better Join The Foolish Crowd Than Cling To Wisdom, Lonely Though Unbowed.

You Are A Fool In Four Letters, My Son.