Crime is the soul of lust. What would pleasure be if it were not accompanied by crime? It is not the object of debauchery that excites us, rather the idea of evil.

And if I were a naughty little boy, the idea is to spank me into good behavior?

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.

Fear not lest precautions and protective contrivances diminish your pleasure: mystery only adds thereto.

Are not laws dangerous which inhibit the passions? Compare the centuries of anarchy with those of the strongest legalism in any country you like and you will see that it is only when the laws are silent that the greatest actions appear.

Crime is to the passions what nervous fluid is to life: it sustains them, it supplies their strength.

The more defects a man may have, the older he is, the less lovable, the more resounding his success.