There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it.

And then the various forms He cast
Gross organs first and finer last;
No one at once evolved, but all
By even touches grew and small
Degrees advanced, till, shade by shade,
To match all living things He’d made
Females, complete in all their parts
Except (His clay gave out) their hearts.
“No matter,” Satan cried; “with speed
I’ll fetch the very hearts they need”–
So flew away and soon brought back
The number needed, in a sack.
That night Earth rang with sounds of strife–
Ten million males had each a wife;
That night sweet Peace her pinions spread
O’er Hell – ten million devils dead!

Out in the street it seemed to Rieux that the night was full of whispers. Somewhere in the black depths above the street-lamps there was a low soughing that brought to his mind that unseen flail threshing incessantly the languid air of which Paneloux had spoken.

Ignota navitas
Occulta Mors

…he now all at once, while he rode, encased himself, body and soul, in the iron creed of the fatalist; and connecting destiny in his mind with the inferred will of God, defied any missile to touch him, unless it should come with the warrant of a providential and foregone decree.

C’est magnifique — mais ce n’est pas le guerre.

A damp heart must be a foul thing to be sure. But who ever heard of one?

They say a Witch will sail in a Sieve — But I believe the Devil wou’d not venture aboard o’your Conscience.

Ashes always come after Blaze.

A Nymph and a Swain to Apollo once pray’d,
The Swain had been jilted, the Nymph been betray’d:
Their Intent was to try if his Oracle knew
E’er a Nymph that was Chaste, or a Swain that was true.

Apollo was mute, and had like t’have been pos’d,
But sagely at length he this Secret disclos’d:
He alone won’t betray in whom none will Confide:
And the Nymph may be Chaste that has never been try’d.