Out Of Life's Storm I Carried Only

My Whole Life Has Been Merely A Succession Of Miserable And Unsuccessful Denials Of Feelings Or Reason.

Passions Are Merely Ideas In Their Initial Stage.

I Want To Reconcile Myself With Heaven, I Want To Love, I Want To Pray, I Want To Believe In Good.

Women Love Only Those Whom They Do Not Know!

The History Of A Man's Soul, Even The Pettiest Soul, Is Hardly Less Interesting And Useful Than The History Of A Whole People; Especially When The Former Is The Result Of The Observations Of A Mature Mind Upon Itself, And Has Been Written Without Any Egotistical Desire Of Arousing Sympathy Or Astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions Has Precisely This Defect – He Read It To His Friends.