I Don't Know What The Heart Is,

If The Objects Who Serve Us Feel Ecstacy, They Are Much More Often Concerned With Themselves Than With Us, And Our Own Enjoyment Is Consequently Impaired. The Idea Of Seeing Another Person Experience The Same Pleasure Reduces One To A Kind Of Equality Which Spoils The Unutterable Charms That Come From Despotism.

Lust Is To The Other Passions What The Nervous Fluid Is To Life; It Supports Them All, Lends Strength To Them All Ambition, Cruelty, Avarice, Revenge, Are All Founded On Lust.

Virtue Can Procure Only An Imaginary Happiness; True Felicity Lies Only In The Senses, And Virtue Gratifies None Of Them.

Sensual Excess Drives Out Pity In Man.

Crime Is To The Passions What Nervous Fluid Is To Life: It Sustains Them, It Supplies Their Strength.