Oh, you’re just an old hypocrite, too. Thousands of scowling priests keeping the degenerate Italians and the illiterate Irish repentant with gabble-gabble about the sixth and ninth commandments. It’s just all cloaks, sentiment, and spiritual rouge and panaceas. I’ll tell you there is no God, not even a definite abstract goodness; so it’s all got to be worked out for the individual by the individual here in high white foreheads like mine, and you’re too much the prig to admit it.
From This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald