How Delicious To Corrupt, To

Let Us Give Ourselves Indiscriminately To Everything Our Passions Suggest, And We Will Always Be Happy...conscience Is Not The Voice Of Nature But Only The Voice Of Prejudice.

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

The Ultimate Triumph Of Philosophy Would Be To Cast Light Upon The Mysterious Ways In Which Providence Moves To Achieve The Designs It Has For Man.

Conversation, Like Certain Portions Of The Anatomy, Always Runs More Smoothly When Lubricated.

Consider The Problem From The Point Of View Of Evil, Evil Being Almost Always Pleasure's True And Major Charm; Considered Thus, The Crime Must Appear Greater When Perpetrated Upon A Being Of Your Identical Sort Than When Inflicted Upon One Which Is Not, And This Once Established, The Delight Automatically Doubles.