I Want To Be The Victim Of

Wolves Which Batten Upon Lambs, Lambs Consumed By Wolves, The Strong Who Immolate The Weak, The Weak Victims Of The Strong: There You Have Nature, There You Have Her Intentions, There You Have Her Scheme: A Perpetual Action And Reaction, A Host Of Vices, A Host Of Virtues, In One Word, A Perfect Equilibrium Resulting From The Equality Of Good And Evil On Earth.

The Impossibility Of Outraging Nature Is The Greatest Anguish Man Can Know.

Conspiracy! Intrigue! A Rapidly Thickening Plot! Add Some Bestiality And A Lecherous Priest And I'd Say You Have The Beginnings Of A Beautiful Novel.

If The Objects Who Serve Us Feel Ecstacy, They Are Much More Often Concerned With Themselves Than With Us, And Our Own Enjoyment Is Consequently Impaired. The Idea Of Seeing Another Person Experience The Same Pleasure Reduces One To A Kind Of Equality Which Spoils The Unutterable Charms That Come From Despotism.

Sexual Pleasure Is, I Agree, A Passion To Which All Others Are Subordinate But In Which They All Unite.