The most fortunate of persons is he who has the most means to satisfy his vagaries.

No kind of sensation is keener and more active than that of pain its impressions are unmistakable.

Sensual excess drives out pity in man.

She had already allowed her delectable lover to pluck that flower which, so different from the rose to which it is nevertheless sometimes compared, has not the same faculty of being reborn each spring.

Humane sentiments are baseless, mad, and improper; they are incredibly feeble; never do they withstand the gainsaying passions, never do they resist bare necessity.

There is a kind of pleasure which comes from sacrilege or the profanation of the objects offered us for worship.

The primary and most beautiful of nature's qualities is motion