Wickedness (n.) at its last stage needs no motives: wrongdoing itself becomes motive enough for doing wrong.
Wickedness (n.) complains that nature is too mean: what use is my vice if my wrongdoing keeps within nature's limits?
Wickedness (n.) is never done just for the fun of it; no one has abandoned the law of nature so completely.
Wickedness (n.) of the extreme kind is always taken for a portent, like a gap opening in the earth or fire bursting from undersea caverns.
Wickedness (n.) has not yet shown itself completely and is still being born, yet our eyes and hands already serve it, while hardly anyone goes near wisdom.
Wickedness (n.) is an epidemic, not a mark: we are wicked, living among the wicked, and the one thing that can give us peace is agreeing to cut each other some slack.
Wickedness (n.) is at its worst when pooled in partnership: evil men debase each other by approving each other's churlishness and praising each other's pleasures.
Wickedness (n.) enjoys its fruits but is itself hateful: no one has defied nature so far as to be evil just for fun, and the highwayman would rather find his loot than seize it.
Wickedness (n.) taught does not stay subservient: tyrants' guards treat their masters in whatever vicious way the tyrants trained them to — what else can one expect from someone he has taught to be evil?