He also knew when to stop. In the fine art of deceit and personal advancement as in any other calling this is the hallmark of the master. - Mervyn Peake

The paper is breathless Under the hand And the pencil is poised Like a warlock's wand.

If ever he had harboured a conscience in his tough narrow breast he had by now dug out and flung away the awkward thing—flung it so far away that were he ever to need it again he could never find it.

So you thought you'd come back, my wicked one. Where have you been?"
"In hell," said Titus. "Swigging blood and munching scorpions."
"That must have been great fun, my darling."
"Not so," said Titus, "hell is overrated.