The idea of God is the sole wrong for which I cannot forgive mankind.

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

Sex should be a perfect balance of pain and pleasure. Without that symmetry, sex becomes a routine rather than an indulgence.

Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.

God strung up his own son like a side of veal. I shudder to think what he would do to me.

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

Miserable creatures, thrown for a moment on the surface of this little pile of mud, is it decreed that one half of the flock should be the persecutor of the other? Is it for you, mankind, to pronounce on what is good and what is evil?