You who love wild passions, flee the holy austerity of my pleasures. All here breathes of God, peace and truth.
This innocence begins to weigh me down.
Justice in the extreme is often unjust.
If I could believe that this was said sincerely, I could put up with anything.
Vice, like virtue, Grows in small steps, and no true innocence Can ever fall at once to deepest guilt.
The part I remember best is the beginning.