I felt for my crime a just terror; I looked on my life with hate, and my passion with horror.
Can a faith that does nothing be called sincere?
Ah, why can't I know if I love, or if I hate?
None love, but they who wish to love.
Innocence has nothing to dread.
Small crimes always precede great crimes. Whoever has been able to transgress the limits set by law may afterwards violate the most sacred rights; crime, like virtue, has its degrees, and never have we seen timid innocence pass suddenly to extreme licentiousness.