It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one sw >>
It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a grand peut-tre >>
The Cardinal is at his wit's end -- it is true that he had not far to >>
Passion is the mob of the man, that commits a riot upon his reason. >>
Private passions tire and exhaust themselves, public ones never. >>
There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite pas >>
There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?