I'm A Libertine, But It's Not My

If A Writer Is Convinced That He Is Honest, Then It Is Very Difficult For Him To Be A Bad Writer.

I Live In My House As I Live Inside My Skin: I Know More Beautiful, More Ample, More Sturdy And More Picturesque Skins: But It Would Seem To Me Unnatural To Exchange Them For Mine.

Dawn Came On Us Like A Betrayer; It Seemed As Though The New Sun Rose As An Ally Of Our Enemies To Assist In Our Destruction.

I'm A Libertine, But It's Not My Specialty.

To Accuse Another Of Having Weak Kidneys, Lungs, Or Heart, Is Not A Crime; On The Contrary, Saying He Has A Weak Brain Is A Crime. To Be Considered Stupid And To Be Told So Is More Painful Than Being Called Gluttonous, Mendacious, Violent, Lascivious, Lazy, Cowardly: Every Weakness, Every Vice, Has Found Its Defenders, Its Rhetoric, Its Ennoblement And Exaltation, But Stupidity Hasn't.