The Most Dangerous Of Our

Like All Truly Pure Souls She [chantal] Quickly Resigned Herself To Past Faults, Thought Only Of How To Repair Whatever Harm They Had Done. "of All My Daughters, You Are Certainly The Least Bothered By Scruples Of Conscience," Abbé Chevance Used To Say.... Even Sin, Once The Will Is Detached And No Longer Nourishes It, Withers And Dies Sterile. It Is In The Secret Of Intentions, Like In A Decomposing Humus, In The Dark Forest Of Future Sins, Unpardoned Sins, Half Dead, Half Living, That New Poisons Are Distilled.

Rather Than The Obsession With Impurity, You'd Do Better To Fear The Nostalgia For Purity.

God Knows That We Should Not Despise Anything. We Must Do Our Best.

[p]ride Has No Intrinsic Substance, Being No More Than The Name Given To The Soul Devouring Itself. When That Loathsome Perversion Of Love Has Borne Its Fruit, It Has Another, More Meaningful And Weightier Name. We Call It Hatred.

[t]he Cradle Is Shallower Than The Grave.