“Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature’s mandates.”

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?

In an age that is utterly corrupt, the best policy is to do as others do.

There you have Nature, there you have her intentions, there you have her scheme: a perpetual action and reaction, a host of vices, a host of virtues, in one word, a perfect equilibrium resulting from the equality of good and evil on earth.

What do I see there but a frail being forever unable to bring man to heel and force him to bend a knee. This creature, although emanated from him, dominates him, knows how to offend him and thereby merit torments eternally! What a weak fellow, this God!

The idea of seeing another person experience the same pleasure reduces one to a kind of equality which spoils the unutterable charms that come from despotism.

What does one want when one is engaged in the sexual act?

Every principle is a judgment, every judgment the outcome of experience, and experience is only acquired by the exercise of the senses . . .

My way of thinking is the result of my reflections. It is part of my inner being,the way I am made. I do not contradict them, and would not even if I wished to.

Certain souls seem hard because they are capable of strong feelings, and they sometimes go to rather extreme lengths; their apparent unconcern and cruelty are but ways, known only to themselves, of feeling more strongly than others.

We are no guiltier in following the primative impulses that govern us than is the Nile for her floods or the sea for her waves.

Between understanding and faith immediate connections must subsist.

Love Is Stronger Than Pride

Happiness lies neither in vice nor in virtue; but in the manner we appreciate the one and the other, and the choice we make pursuant to our individual organization.

Nature has not got two voices, you know, one of them condemning all day what the other commands.

God strung up his own son like a side of veal. I shudder to think what he would do to me.

Dread not infanticide; the crime is imaginary: we are always mistress of what we carry in our womb, and we do no more harm in destroying this kind of matter than in evacuating another, by medicines, when we feel the need.