No man is a hypocrite in his pleasures.
He who is passionate and hasty is generally honest. It is your cool, dissembling hypocrite of whom you should beware.
The true hypocrite is the one who ceases to perceive his deception, the one who lies with sincerity.
The true hypocrite is one who ceases to perceive his deception, the one who lies with sincerity.
Do not others expect from children more perfect conduct then they themselves exhibit? If a gracious child should lose his temper or act wrongly in some trifling thing through forgetfulness, straight-away he is condemned as a little hypocrite by those who are a long way from being perfect themselves.
The worst sort of hypocrite and liar is the man who lies to himself in order to feel at ease.
He who exhibits no faults is a fool or a hypocrite whom we should distrust.
An envious man is never free of pain, just as the hypocrite is never free from fear.
A hypocrite despises those whom he deceives, but has not respect for himself.
The only vice that cannot be forgiven is hypocrisy. The repentance of a hypocrite is itself hypocrisy.
The difference between a saint and a hypocrite is that one lies for his religion, the other by it.
Be not like the hypocrite who, when he talks, tells lies; when he gives a promise, he breaks it; and when he is trusted, he proves dishonest.
Without giving up worldliness a man cannot awaken his spiritual consciousness, nor can he realize God. He cannot but be a hypocrite as long as he has even a trace of worldly desire. God cannot be realized without guilelessness.
No man is by nature the property of another.
The actor becomes an emotional athlete. The process is painful - my personal life suffers.
Sin is a viper that does always kill where it is not killed.
And no less preeminent a champion of American independence than Thomas Paine had the following words of reproach for the Good Book: As to the book called the Bible, it is blasphemy to call it the Word of God. It is a book of lies and contradictions, and a history of bad times and bad men. There are but a few good characters in the whole book.
The Caverns of the Grave I’ve seen,
And these I show’d to England’s Queen.
But now the Caves of Hell I view,
Who shall I dare to show them to?
What mighty soul in Beauty’s form
Shall dauntless view the infernal storm?
Egremont’s Countess can control
The flames of Hell that round me roll;
If she refuse, I still go on
Till the Heavens and Earth are gone,
Still admir’d by noble minds,
Follow’d by Envy on the winds,
Re-engrav’d time after time,
Ever in their youthful prime,
My designs unchang’d remain.
Time may rage, but rage in vain.
For above Time’s troubled fountains,
On the great Atlantic Mountains,
In my Golden House on high,
There they shine eternally.