Nature has not got two voices, you know, one of them condemning all day what the other commands.
I've already told you: the only way to a woman's heart is along the path of torment. I know none other as sure.
Sensual excess drives out pity in man.
Are wars anything but the means whereby a nation is nourished, whereby it is strengthened, whereby it is buttressed?
All universal moral principles are idle fancies.
Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature's mandates.
