I cannot afford to let you out.

Take a drop of this poison, and it will quiet your nerves.

I throw this hook of a fang over your neck to keep you from falling off." Word went back to the house-fly's family, and a choir of great green-bottled insects sang this psalm at the funeral: "An unfortunate fly a-visiting went, And in a gossamer web found himself pent." The first five years of a dissipated life are comparatively easy, for it is all down hill; but when the man wakes up and finds his tongue wound with blasphemies, and his eyes swimming in rheum, and the antennae of vice feeling along his nerves, and the spiderish poison eating through his very life, and, he resolves to return, he finds it hard traveling, for it is up hill, and the fortresses along the road open on him their batteries.

We go into sin, hop, skip and jump; we come out of it creeping on all fours.
Let flies and dogs and men keep out of mischief.

It is smooth all the way there, and rough all the way back.