"When you find such hordes of scribblers all over, it's misplaced kindness not to write. The paper will still be wasted." Satire I, p. 3

"Let money reign supreme; we can't have a Johnny-come-lately, the chalk just off his feet, flout this sacrosanct office! Why not? Of all gods it's Wealth that compels our deepest reverence- though as yet, pernicious Cash, you lack your own temple, though we've raised no altars to Sovereign Gold." Satire I, p. 6

"Appearances are deceptive: every back street abounds with solemn-faced humbuggers. You're castigating vice, you, the most notable dyke among all our Socratic fairies? Your shaggy limbs and the bristling hair on your forearms proclaim a fierce spirit; but the surgeon who lances your swollen piles breaks up at the sight of that well-smoothed passage." Satire II, p. 9

"There's no room in this city for the decent professions...These are such men as...