Disagreeable Suspicions Are Usually The Fruits Of

You Who Love Wild Passions, Flee The Holy Austerity Of My Pleasures. All Here Breathes Of God, Peace And Truth.

My Only Hope Lies In My Despair.

Crime Like Virtue Has Its Degrees; And Timid Innocence Was Never Known To Blossom Suddenly Into Extreme License.

A Tragedy Need Not Have Blood And Death; It's Enough That It All Be Filled With That Majestic Sadness That Is The Pleasure Of Tragedy.

Love Is Not A Fire To Be Shut Up In A Soul. Everything Betrays Us: Voice, Silence, Eyes; Half-covered Fires Burn All The Brighter.