The day is not purer than the depths of my heart.
What does it matter if, by chance, a little vile blood be spilled?
Small crimes always precedes great ones.
Crime like virtue has its degrees; and timid innocence was never known to blossom suddenly into extreme license.
He who has far to ride spares his horse.
Sir, that much prudence calls for too much worry; I cannot foresee misfortunes so far away.