And If I Were A

How Delightful Are The Pleasures Of The Imagination! In Those Delectable Moments, The Whole World Is Ours; Not A Single Creature Resists Us, We Devastate The World, We Repopulate It With New Objects Which, In Turn, We Immolate. The Means To Every Crime Is Ours, And We Employ Them All, We Multiply The Horror A Hundredfold.

Your Body Is The Church Where Nature Asks To Be Reverenced.

Nature Has Endowed Each Of Us With A Capacity For Kindly Feelings: Let Us Not Squander Them On Others.

I Have Supported My Deviations With Reasons; I Did Not Stop At Mere Doubt; I Have Vanquished, I Have Uprooted, I Have Destroyed Everything In My Heart That Might Have Interfered With My Pleasure.

Consider The Problem From The Point Of View Of Evil, Evil Being Almost Always Pleasure's True And Major Charm; Considered Thus, The Crime Must Appear Greater When Perpetrated Upon A Being Of Your Identical Sort Than When Inflicted Upon One Which Is Not, And This Once Established, The Delight Automatically Doubles.