To Judge From The Notions

She Had Already Allowed Her Delectable Lover To Pluck That Flower Which, So Different From The Rose To Which It Is Nevertheless Sometimes Compared, Has Not The Same Faculty Of Being Reborn Each Spring.

If It Is The Dirty Element That Gives Pleasure To The Act Of Lust, Then The Dirtier It Is, The More Pleasurable It Is Bound To Be.

There Is No God, Nature Sufficeth Unto Herself; In No Wise Hath She Need Of An Author.

Now I Beg Of You To Tell Me Whether I Must Love A Human Being Simply Because He Exists Or Resembles Me And Whether For Those Reasons Alone I Must Suddenly Prefer Him To Myself?

It Is Not My Mode Of Thought That Has Caused My Misfortunes, But The Mode Of Thought Of Others.