Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342984" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Saint And The Monk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saint Peter at the gate of Heaven displayed<br>The tools and terrors of his awful trade;<br>The key, the frown as pitiless as night,<br>That slays intending trespassers at sight,<br>And, at his side in easy reach, the curled<br>Interrogation points all ready to be hurled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Straight up the shining cloudway (it so chanced<br>No others were about) a soul advanced<br>A fat, orbicular and jolly soul<br>With laughter-lines upon each rosy jowl-<br>A monk so prepossessing that the saint<br>Admired him, breathless, until weak and faint,<br>Forgot his frown and all his questions too,<br>Forgoing even the customary 'Who?'<br>Threw wide the gate and, with a friendly grin,<br>Said, ''Tis a very humble home, but pray walk in.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soul smiled pleasantly. 'Excuse me, please<br>Who's in there?' By insensible degrees<br>The impudence dispelled the saint's esteem,<br>As growing snores annihilate a dream.<br>The frown began to blacken on his brow,<br>His hand to reach for 'Whence?' and 'Why?' and 'How?'<br>'O, no offense, I hope,' the soul explained;<br>'I'm rather-well, particular. I've strained<br>A point in coming here at all; 'tis said<br>That Susan Anthony (I hear she's dead<br>At last) and all her followers are here.<br>As company, they'd be-confess it-rather queer.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The saint replied, his rising anger past:<br>'What can I do?-the law is hard-and-fast,<br>Albeit unwritten and on earth unknown-<br>An oral order issued from the Throne.<br>By but one sin has Woman e'er incurred<br>God's wrath. To accuse Them Loud of that would be absurd.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That friar sighed, but, calling up a smile,<br>Said, slowly turning on his heel the while:<br>'Farewell, my friend. Put up the chain and bar<br>I'm going, so please you, where the pretty women are.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342984" data-title="The Saint And The Monk de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Saint Peter at the gate of Heaven displayed
The tools and terrors of his awful trade;
The key, the frown as pitiless as night,
That slays intending trespassers at sight,
And, at his side in easy reach, the curled
Interrogation points all ready to ..."></div>
</div>
</div>