Thank The Gods! My Misery Exceeds All

What Does It Matter If, By Chance, A Little Vile Blood Be Spilled?

Crime Like Virtue Has Its Degrees; And Timid Innocence Was Never Known To Blossom Suddenly Into Extreme License.

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.

Too Much Virtue Can Be Criminal.

The Principal Rule Of Art Is To Please And To Move. All The Other Rules Were Created To Achieve This First One.