Sex Without Pain Is Like Food Without

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.

The Idea Of God Is The Sole Wrong For Which I Cannot Forgive Mankind.

The Mirror Sees The Man As Beautiful, The Mirror Loves The Man; Another Mirror Sees The Man As Frightful And Hates Him; And It Is Always The Same Being Who Produces The Impressions.

Hope Is The Most Sensitive Part Of A Poor Wretch's Soul; Whoever Raises It Only To Torment Him Is Behaving Like The Executioners In Hell Who, They Say, Incessantly Renew Old Wounds And Concentrate Their Attention On That Area Of It That Is Already Lacerated.

Lust's Passion Will Be Served; It Demands, It Militates, It Tyrannizes.