Stolen sweets are best.

Stolen sweets are best.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell read more

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

--To live
On means not yours--be brave in silks and laces,
Gallant in steeds; splendid in banquets; read more

--To live
On means not yours--be brave in silks and laces,
Gallant in steeds; splendid in banquets; all
Not yours. Given, uninherited, unpaid for;
This is to be a trickster; and to filch
Men's art and labour, which to them is wealth,
Life, daily bread;--quitting all scores with "friend,
You're troublesome!" Why this, forgive me,
Is what, when done with a less dainty grace,
Plain folks call "Theft."

In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing.
The Ten Commandments read more

In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing.
The Ten Commandments will not budge
And stealing will continue stealing.

Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier read more

Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions.

He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all.

He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter:
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels:
read more

Stolen sweets are always sweeter:
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels:
Stolen, stolen be your apples.

For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high
places of the city,
read more

For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high
places of the city,
To call passengers who go right on their ways:
Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither: and as for him that
wanteth understanding, she saith to him,
Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing.
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
read more

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing.
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.