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.
Hippolytus can feel, and feels nothing for me!
Is a faith without action a sincere faith?
The day is not purer than the depths of my heart.
Me, rule? Me, place the State under my law, when my feeble reason no longer rules even myself!
It is a maxim of old that among themselves all things are common to friends.