You who love wild passions, flee the holy austerity of my pleasures. All here breathes of God, peace and truth.

I will die if I lose you, but I will die if I wait longer.

If I could believe that this was said sincerely, I could put up with anything.

Honor, without money, is a mere malady.

Thank the Gods! My misery exceeds all my hopes!

I felt for my crime a just terror; I looked on my life with hate, and my passion with horror.

Me, rule? Me, place the State under my law, when my feeble reason no longer rules even myself!