Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest.
If something's just, I'll let myself be hacked to bits for it.
Sin ought to be something exquisite, my dear boy.
Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.
Did science promise happiness? I do not believe it. It promised truth, and the question is to know if we will ever make happiness with truth.
She was cold by nature, self-love predominating over passion; rather than being virtuous, she preferred to have her pleasures all to herself.