She wavers, she hesitates; in one word — she is a woman.
There may be guilt when there is too much virtue.
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.
I loved you when you were unfaithful; what would I have done if you were true?
The part I remember best is the beginning.
I felt for my crime a just terror; I looked on my life with hate, and my passion with horror.