Dread not infanticide; the crime is imaginary: we are always mistress of what we carry in our womb, and we do no more harm in destroying this kind of matter than in evacuating another, by medicines, when we feel the need.

Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?

Let not your zeal to share your principles entice you beyond your borders.

Are your convictions so fragile that mine cannot stand in opposition to them? Is your God so illusory that the presence of my Devil reveals his insufficiency?

What does one want when one is engaged in the sexual act? That everything around you give you its utter attention, think only of you, care only for you...every man wants to be a tyrant when he fornicates.

Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature's mandates.

Certain souls may seem harsh to others, but it is just a way, beknownst only to them, of caring and feeling more deeply.