Ah, why can't I know if I love, or if I hate?
She wavers, she hesitates; in one word — she is a woman.
Crime like virtue has its degrees; and timid innocence was never known to blossom suddenly into extreme license.
This innocence begins to weigh me down.
To save our imperiled honor everything must be sacrificed, even virtue.
Can a faith that does nothing be called sincere?