The Idea Of God Is The Sole

How Delightful Are The Pleasures Of The Imagination! In Those Delectable Moments, The Whole World Is Ours; Not A Single Creature Resists Us, We Devastate The World, We Repopulate It With New Objects Which, In Turn, We Immolate. The Means To Every Crime Is Ours, And We Employ Them All, We Multiply The Horror A Hundredfold.

There Is No God, Nature Sufficeth Unto Herself; In No Wise Hath She Need Of An Author.

The Debility To Which Nature Condemned Women Incontestably Proves That Her Design Is For Man, Who Then More Than Ever Enjoys His Strength, To Exercise It In All The Violent Forms That Suit Him Best, By Means Of Tortures, If He Be So Inclined, Or Worse.

Your Service Will Be Arduous, It Will Be Painful And Rigorous, And The Slightest Delinquencies Will Be Requited Immediately With Corporal And Afflicting Punishments; Hence, I Must Recommend To You Prompt Exactness, Submissiveness, And Total Self-abnegation That You Be Enabled To Heed Naught But Our Desires; Let Them Be Your Laws, Fly To Do Their Bidding, Anticipate Them, Cause Them To Be Born.

Here Am I: At One Stroke Incestuous, Adulteress, Sodomite, And All That In A Girl Who Only Lost Her Maidenhead Today! What Progress, My Friends With What Rapidity I Advance Along The Thorny Road Of Vice!