All Is Asleep: The Army, The Wind,

Have There Ever Been More Submissive Slaves? Adoring, Even In Their Irons, The God Who Punishes Them.

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.

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

A Noble Heart Cannot Suspect In Others The Pettiness And Malice That It Has Never Felt.

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