Now I Beg Of You To Tell

Happiness Lies Only In That Which Excites, And The Only Thing That Excites Is Crime.

How Delightful Are The Pleasures Of The Imagination! In Those Delectable Moments, The Whole World Is Ours; Not A Single Creature Resists Us, We Devastate The World, We Repopulate It With New Objects Which, In Turn, We Immolate. The Means To Every Crime Is Ours, And We Employ Them All, We Multiply The Horror A Hundredfold.

Chimerical And Empty Being, Your Name Alone Has Caused More Blood To Flow On The Face Of The Earth Than Any Political War Ever Will. Return To The Nothingness From Which The Mad Hope And Ridiculous Fright Of Men Dared Call You Forth To Their Misfortune. You Only Appeared As A Torment For The Human Race. What Crimes Would Have Been Spared The World, If They Had Choked The First Imbecile Who Thought Of Speaking Of You.

Evil Is... A Moral Entity And Not A Created One, An Eternal And Not A Perishable Entity: It Existed Before The World; It Constituted The Monstrous, The Execrable Being Who Was Also To Fashion Such A Hideous World. It Will Hence Exist After The Creatures Which People This World

The Degradation Which Characterizes The State Into Which You Plunge Him By Punishing Him Pleases, Amuses, And Delights Him. Deep Down He Enjoys Having Gone So Far As To Deserve Being Treated In Such A Way.