To Repair The Irreparable Ravages Of Time.

Pain Is Unjust, And All The Arguments That Cannot Soothe It Only Rouse Suspicion.

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.

Small Crimes Always Precede Great Crimes. Whoever Has Been Able To Transgress The Limits Set By Law May Afterwards Violate The Most Sacred Rights; Crime, Like Virtue, Has Its Degrees, And Never Have We Seen Timid Innocence Pass Suddenly To Extreme Licentiousness.

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

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