A prohibitionist is the sort of man one wouldn’t care to drink with — even if he drank.
H. L. Mencken (1880-1956) American writer and journalist [Henry Lewis Mencken]
A Little Book in C Major, ch. 3, § 10 (1916)
(Source)
Variant:
PROHIBITIONIST. The sort of man one wouldn't care to drink with, even if he drank.
A Book of Burlesques, "The Jazz Webster" (1924)
Quotations about:
prude
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
I haven’t a particle of confidence in a man who has no redeeming petty vices whatsoever.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
“Answers to Correspondents,” The Californian (17 Jun 1865)
(Source)
Reprinted in The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and Other Sketches (1867).
You there, reader, the over-solemn one,
Take a hike wherever — my verse is spun
Only for blithe, witty cognoscenti
“Up” for priapic jeux de spree aplenty
Or aroused by bells on harlot’s fingers.
He who in these randy pages lingers —
Though more stern than Curius or Fabricius
Soon gets tingly, and anon lubricious;
Then, lo, beneath a toga something pokes.
My little book’s salacious whims and jokes
Will lead even the chastest dames astray;
Taken with wine, my lines can make ’em bray!
Lucretia, more proper than whom none such,
Peeked between my covers, blushed very much,
And threw me down (but Brutus stood glowering).
Brutus, “Ciao!” — and back she’ll be devouring.[Qui gravis es nimium, potes hinc iam, lector, abire
Quo libet: urbanae scripsimus ista togae;
Iam mea Lampsacio lascivit pagina versu
Et Tartesiaca concrepat aera manu.
O quotiens rigida pulsabis pallia vena,
Sis gravior Curio Fabricioque licet!
Tu quoque nequitias nostri lususque libelli
Uda, puella, leges, sis Patavina licet.
Erubuit posuitque meum Lucretia librum,
Sed coram Bruto; Brute, recede: leget.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 11, epigram 16 (11.16) (AD 96) [tr. Schmidgall (2001)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
To read my Booke the Virgin shie
May blush, (while Brutus standeth by:)
But when He's gone, read through what's write,
And never staine a cheeke for it.
[tr. Herrick (1658), "On his Booke"]
Haste hence, morose remarker, haste:
Urbanity alone has taste.
No strains Lampsacian foul my page,
Nor feels my brass Tartessian rage.
yet here the mirth that cannot cloy,
Shall often shake thy sides with joy:
Suppose thy mind of graver mold,
Than Curius' self possest of old;
Or had thy features greater force,
Than his, that brav'd the solar course.
Nay thou my nonsense keen shalt read,
Meek made of Patavinian breed.
Lucretia blusht, and dropt the book;
Nor, Brutus there, would dain a look.
Brutus, begone: thy dame, at ease
Will show how my perusals please.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 3, ep. 64, "To the Morose"]
Reader, if you are exceedingly staid, you may shut up my book whenever you please; I write now for the idlers of the city; my verses are devoted to the god of Lampsacus, and my hand shakes the castanet, as briskly as a dancing-girl of Cadiz. Oh! how often will you feel your desires aroused, even though you were more frigid than Curius and Fabricius. You too, young damsel, will read the gay and sportive sallies of my book not without emotion, even though you should be a native of Patavium. Lucretia blushes, and lays my book aside; but Brutus is present. Let Brutus retire, and she will read.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859). "To His Readers"]
You, reader, who are too strait-laced, can now go away from here whither you will: I wrote these verses for the citizen of wit; now my page wantons in verse of Lampascus, and beats the timbrel with the hand of a figurante of Tartessus. Oh, how often will you with your ardour disarrange your garb, though you may be more strait-laced than Curius and Fabricus! You also, O girl, may, when in your cups, read the naughtiness and sportive sallis of my little book, though you may be from Patavium. Lucretia blushed and laid down my volume; but Brutus was present. Brutus, go away: she will read it.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Grave reader, go -- wherever you may please --
I'm writing now for Roman cits at ease.
This scroll is full of Priapean rhymes
And sound of castanets from Spanish climes.
Though you more stern than ancient Curius be
You will be fired, methinks, if you read me.
Yet modest maidens at this sportive book
May in their cups perchance with favour look,
And matrons hide it from their lords away --
Meaning to finish it some other day.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "A Warning to Prudes"]
Too serious reader, you may leave at this point and go where you please. I wrote these pieces for the city gown; now my page frolics with verse of Lampsacus and clashes the cymbals with Tartesian hand. Oh, how often you will strike your garment with rigid member, though you be graver than Curius and Fabricius. You also, my girl, will not be dry as you read the naughty jests of my little book, though you come from Patavium. Lucretia blushed and put my book aside, but that was in front of Brutus. Brutus, withdraw: she will read.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
You can leave now, Reader, over-severe,
go, where you please: I write for the city;
my page, now, runs wild with Priapic verse,
strikes the cymbals, with a dancing-girl’s hand.
O, how you’ll beat your cloak in rigid vein,
though you’re weightier than Curius, Fabricius!
You too, that read naughty jokes in my little book,
you’ll be wet, girl, though you’re from moral Padua.
Lucretia would have blushed, and shut my volume,
while Brutus was there; but when he left: she’d have read.
[tr. Kline (2006)]
Persnickety readers, time to leave!
I now write stuff to make you grieve.
My toga off, my lines will jiggle
And with the bellydancer wriggle.
Now what we wear will ask no pardon
For standing out with sculptured hard-on.
To make the Founding Fathers horny,
And Boston matrons less than thorny --
They'll lather up between their thighs
And wonder at their fellows' size.
Of course Lucretia will not look
Till Brutus goes -- then: Seize the book!
[tr. Wills (2007)]
Let every prudish reader use his feet
And bugger off -- I write for the elite.
My verses gambol with Priapic verve
As dancing harlots' patter starts a nerve.
Though stern as Curius or like Fabricius,
Your prick will stiffen and grow vicious.
Girls while they drink -- even the chastest folk --
Will read each naughty word and dirty joke.
Lucretia blushes, throws away my book.
Her husband goes. She takes another look.
[tr. Reid]
Moral indignation is in most cases 2 percent moral, 48 percent indignation, and 50 percent envy.
Vittorio De Sica (1901-1974) Italian neorealist director and actor
In The Observer (1961)
See also H. G. Wells.
They that seldom take pleasure seldom give pleasure.
Fulke Greville (1554-1628) 1st Baron Brooke; Elizabethan poet, dramatist, and statesman
Maxims, Characters, and Reflections (1756)
You ever look at their faces? “We’re pro-life.” Don’t they look it? Don’t they just exude joie de vivre?
Bill Hicks (1961-1994) American stand-up comedian, social critic, satirist, musician [William Melvin "Bill" Hicks]
Filling Up the Hump (1993)
It is easier to make a saint out of a libertine than out of a prig.
George Santayana (1863-1952) Spanish-American poet and philosopher [Jorge Agustín Nicolás Ruíz de Santayana y Borrás]
The Life of Reason or The Phases of Human Progress, Vol. 3 “Reason in Religion,” ch. 11 “Spirituality and Its Corruptions” (1905-06)
(Source)
The first thing that happens to men once they have had to give up any pleasure, whether for propriety’s sake, or from satiety, or for their health, is to condemn it in other people. Such behavior implies a sort of attachment to the very things one has just renounced: we want nobody else to enjoy the good things that we have lost; it is a feeling of jealousy.
[La première chose qui arrive aux hommes après avoir renoncé aux plaisirs, ou par bienséance, ou par lassitude, ou par régime, c’est de les condamner dans les autres. Il entre dans cette conduite une sorte d’attachement pour les choses mêmes que l’on vient de quitter; l’on aimerait qu’un bien qui n’est plus pour nous ne fût plus aussi pour le reste du monde: c’est un sentiment de jalousie.]
Jean de La Bruyère (1645-1696) French essayist, moralist
The Characters [Les Caractères], ch. 11 “Of Mankind [De l’Homme],” § 112 (11.112) (1688) [tr. Stewart (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
The first thing men do, when they have renounc'd pleasure, either out of decency, surfeit, or conviction, is to condemn it in others. This sort of management is however seldom free from a particular affection for those very things they left off, but they would have no body enjoy the pleasure they can no longer enjoy themselves, which proceeds more from Jealousie than any thing else.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]
The first thing Men do, when they have renounc'd Pleasure, either out of Decency, Surfeit, or Conviction, is to condemn it in others. They preserve, in this Conduct, a sort of Affection for the very things they left off; they would have no body enjoy the Pleasure they can no longer enjoy themselves: 'Tis a sentiment of Jealousy.
[Curll ed. (1713)]
The first Thing, when Men have renounced Pleasure, either out of Decency, Satiety, or Necessity, is to condemn it in others. This Sort of Reproof, however, is not free from a latent Affection for their forsaken Pleasures; they would interdict to all others what they can themselves no longer enjoy; their Admonitions are the Snarlings of Jealousy, not the Dictates of Purity.
[Browne ed. (1752)]
The first thing men do when they have renounced pleasure, through decency, lassitude, or for the sake of health, is to condemn it in others. Such conduct denotes a kind of latent affection for the very things they left off; they would like no one to enjoy a pleasure they can no longer indulge in; and thus they show their feelings of jealousy.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]
The problem with people who have no vices is that generally you can be pretty sure they’re going to have some pretty annoying virtues.
