Conspiracy! Intrigue! A rapidly thickening plot! Add some bestiality and a lecherous priest and I'd say you have the beginnings of a beautiful novel.

What you call disorder is nothing else than one of the laws of the order you comprehend not and which you have erroneously named disorder because its effects, though good for Nature, run counter to your convenience or jar your opinions.

It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure.

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

Were he supreme, were he mighty, were he just, were he good, this God you tell me about, would it be through enigmas and buffooneries he would wish to teach me to serve and know him?

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

Nature has not got two voices, you know, one of them condemning all day what the other commands.