Sin is the only color- element left in modern life.
Out of the black cave of time, terrible and swathed in scarlet, rose the image of his sin.
The sin we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy.
Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face. It cannot be concealed.
There is no sin except stupidity.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
It's silly not to hope. It's a sin he thought.
Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all.
Sin can be forgiven, but stupid is forever.
It is a sin to write this.