Some Smaller Crimes Always Precede The Great

The Glory Of My Name Increases My Shame. Less Known By Mortals, I Could Better Escape Their Eyes.

Love Is Not A Fire To Be Shut Up In A Soul. Everything Betrays Us: Voice, Silence, Eyes; Half-covered Fires Burn All The Brighter.

He Who Has Far To Ride Spares His Horse.

I Felt For My Crime A Just Terror; I Looked On My Life With Hate, And My Passion With Horror.

It Is A Maxim Of Old That Among Themselves All Things Are Common To Friends.