Vice is perhaps a desire to learn everything.
Hope is a memory that desires, the memory is a memory that has enjoyed.
One of the glories of society is to have created woman where Nature had made only a female; to have created a continuity of desire where Nature thought only of perpetuating the species; and, in fine, to have invented love.
Show me the woman, however loyal, who does not seek to rouse desire.
Does not any limit imposed upon one inspire a desire to go beyond it? Does not our keenest suffering arise when our free will is crossed?
