Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.
My tastes are aristocratic, my actions democratic.
Habit is the nursery of errors.
As we have explained, in first love the soul is taken long before the body; later the body is taken long before the soul; sometimes the soul is not taken at all.
Nothing is really small; whoever is open to the deep penetration of nature knows this.
by making himself a priest made himself a demon.