Happiness is ideal, it is the work of the imagination.

Wolves which batten upon lambs, lambs consumed by wolves, the strong who immolate the weak, the weak victims of the strong: there you have Nature, there you have her intentions, there you have her scheme: a perpetual action and reaction, a host of vices, a host of virtues, in one word, a perfect equilibrium resulting from the equality of good and evil on earth.

I don't know what the heart is, not I: I only use the word to denote the mind's frailties.

Either kill me or take me as I am, because I'll be damned if I ever change.

My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved. Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others!

To judge from the notions expounded by theologians, one must conclude that God created most men simply with a view to crowding hell.

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.