No Man Has Received From Nature The

I Discuss With Myself Questions Of Politics, Love, Taste, Or Philosophy. I Let My Mind Rove Wantonly, Give It Free Rein To Followany Idea, Wise Or Mad That May Present Itself. My Ideas Are My Harlots.

Gentleness And Peacefulness Regulate Our Proceedings; Theirs Are Dictated By Fury. We Employ Reason, They Accumulate Faggots. They Preach Nothing But Love, And Breathe Nothing But Blood. Their Words Are Humane, But Their Hearts Are Cruel.

There Comes A Moment During Which Almost Every Girl Or Boy Falls Into Melancholy; They Are Tormented By A Vague Inquietude Which Rests On Everything And Finds Nothing To Calm It. They Seek Solitude; They Weep; The Silence To Be Found In Cloister Attracts Them: The Image Of Peace That Seems To Reign In Religious Houses Seduces Them. They Mistake The First Manifestations Of A Developing Sexual Nature For The Voice Of God Calling Them To Himself; And It Is Precisely When Nature Is Inciting Them That They Embrace A Fashion Of Life Contrary To Nature's Wish.

All Things Must Be Examined, Debated, Investigated Without Exception And Without Regard For Anyone's Feelings... We Must Run Roughshod Over All These Ancient Puerilities, Overturn The Barriers That Reason Never Erected, Give Back To The Arts And Sciences The Liberty That Is So Precious To Them.

There Is No Good Father Who Would Want To Resemble Our Heavenly Father.