He who has far to ride spares his horse.

When I'm carried away, isn't it clear that my heart contradicts my mouth?

Wrinkles on the brow are the imprints of exploits.

Small crimes always precede great crimes. Whoever has been able to transgress the limits set by law may afterwards violate the most sacred rights; crime, like virtue, has its degrees, and never have we seen timid innocence pass suddenly to extreme licentiousness.

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

She wavers, she hesitates; in one word — she is a woman.

This innocence begins to weigh me down.