The Sorrows of Satan

Very few people have any real friends," said Lord Elton presently. "And in that respect I suppose we're none of us worse off than Socrates, who used to keep two chairs only in his house,—' one for myself and another for a friend—when I find him!'

Wealth acts merely as a kind of mirror to show you human nature at its worst.

may talk like a fool, laugh like a hyena and look like a baboon, but if the chink-chink of your gold be only sufficiently loud, you may soon find yourself dining with the Queen if such be your ambition

I tell you, Lucio, it is horrible !''
"What is? Death? It is not half so horrible as Life lived wrongly

Everything in the Universe is perfect"—he said, "except that curious piece of work—Man. Have you never thought out any reasons why he should be the one flaw,—the one incomplete creature in a matchless Creation?"

They are the mothers of the human race, and the faults of the race are chiefly due to them. That is another reason for my hatred.''

Women have always done me harm,— they have wantonly hindered me in my progress. And why I specially abominate them is, that they have been gifted with an enormous power for doing good, and that they let this power run to waste and will not use it.

I have told you already, Tempest, I hate women.''
"Seriously?"
"Most seriously. Women have always done me harm,— they have wantonly hindered me in my progress. And why I specially abominate them is, that they have been gifted with an enormous power for doing good, and that they let this power run to waste and will not use it. Their deliberate enjoyment and choice of the repulsive, vulgar and commonplace side of life disgusts me. They are much less sensitive than men, and infinitely more heartless. They are the mothers of the human race, and the faults of the race are chiefly due to them. That is another reason for my hatred.''
"Do you want the human race to be perfect?" I asked astonished—" Because, if you do, you will find that impossible."
He stood for a moment apparently lost in thought.
"Everything in the Universe is perfect"—he said, "except that curious piece of work—Man. Have you never thought out any reasons why he should be the one flaw,—the one incomplete creature in a matchless Creation?"
"No, I have not"—I replied—"I take things as I find them."
"So do I"—and he turned away, "And as I find them, so they find me! Au revoir! Dinner in an hour's time remember !''
The door opened and closed—he was gone. I remained alone for a little, thinking what a strange disposition was his. —what a curious mixture of philosophy, worldliness, sentiment and satire seemed to run like the veins of a leaf through the variable temperament of this brilliant, semi-mysterious personage who had by mere chance become my greatest friend. We had now been more or less together for nearly a month, and I was no closer to the secret of his actual nature than I had been at first. Yet I admired him more than ever,—without his society I felt life would be deprived of half its

And have you been thinking?" he inquired laughing— "Don't do it. It's a bad habit. No one thinks now-a-days, —people can't stand it,—their heads are too frail.

as I stood looking out of the window at the persistently falling rain, I was conscious of a bitterness rather than a sweetness in the full cup of fortune