All Places Shall Be Hell

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I Am Asham'd, However That I Seem, To Think A Word Of Such Simple Sound, Of Such Great Matter Should Be Made The Ground.

I Am Envy...i Cannot Read And Therefore Wish All Books Burned.

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

It Is A Comfort To The Miserable To Have Comrades In Misfortune, But It Is A Poor Comfort After All.

All Places Are Alike, And Every Earth Is Fit For Burial.