He seemed For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was false and hollow.

It is vain to find fault with those arts of deceiving, wherein men find pleasure to be deceived.

The angel answer'd, "Nay, said soul; go higher! To be deceived in your true heart's desire Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!"

But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice.

It seems we are capable of immense love and loyalty, and as capable of deceit and atrocity. It's probably this shocking ambivalence that makes us unique.

When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat yet, fool'd by hope, men favour the deceit