Whose Fault Is It If Poor Ireland

A Mind At Liberty To Reflect On Its Own Observations, If It Produce Nothing Useful To The World, Seldom Fails Of Entertainment To Itself.

Every Knave Is A Thorough Knave, And A Thorough Knave Is A Knave Throughout.

Of All Men Living [priests] Are Our Greatest Enemies. If It Were Possible, They Would Extinguish The Very Light Of Nature, Turn The World Into A Dungeon, And Keep Mankind For Ever In Chains And Darkness.

I Am Apt To Think, If We Knew What It Was To Be An Angel For One Hour, We Should Return To This World, Though It Were To Sit On The Brightest Throne In It, With Vastly More Loathing And Reluctance Than We Would Now Descend Into A Loathsome Dungeon Or Sepulchre.

To Me It Seems That Liberty And Virtue Were Made For Each Other. If Any Man Wish To Enslave His Country, Nothing Is A Fitter Preparative Than Vice; And Nothing Leads To Vice So Surely As Irreligion.