You wouldn't think that man was a saint to look at him, would you?
What pleasure can they take in seeing Saint Agnes, I would like to know.
It was the priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and shut the door after him.
The gridiron of Saint Lawrence is of an agreeable freshness to him.
When the tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened an odour of roses came up from her coffin.
Such association is enough to undermine the morals of a saint, in a week or two.
The votaries of the saint will get up a petition to have his body moved.
Saint and sinner, ascetic and worldling, united in its practice.
What a man really likes is to be saint with the reputation of being a bit of a devil.
And a woman likes, you think, to be a bit of a devil, with the reputation of a saint?