I have an idea that conscience impedes quite as many merits as faults, is a sort of alloy, a nickel which may prevent silver from bending but also prevents it from shining.

One cannot revoke a true happiness.

There are some women ... in whom conscience is so strongly developed that it leaves little room for anything else.

Idleness is righteous if it is comfortable. Uncomfortable idleness is sin & sinful waste.

Anticipation of pleasure is a pleasure in itself.

Happy is the day whose history is not written down.

Only two things are real to me: my love and my death. In between them, I merely exist as a scatter of senses.