LXXX
A soul taken up with bashfulness and the effort to suppress it, is incapable of pleasure. Pleasure is a luxury—to enjoy it, security is essential and must run no risks.
LXXXI
A test of love in which mercenary women cannot disguise their feelings.—"Do you feel real delight in reconciliation or is it only the thought of what you'll gain by it?"
LXXXII
The poor things who fill La Trappe[(55)] are wretches who have not had quite enough courage to kill themselves. I except, of course, the heads, who find pleasure in being heads.
LXXXIII
It is a misfortune to have known Italian beauty: you lose your sensibility. Out of Italy, you prefer the conversation of men.
LXXXIV
Italian prudence looks to the preservation of life, and this allows free play to the imagination. (Cf. a version of the death of Pertica the famous comic actor, December 24th, 1821.) On the other hand, English prudence, wholly relative to the gain and safe-keeping of just enough money to cover expenses, demands detailed and everyday exactitude, and this habit paralyses the imagination. Notice also how enormously it strengthens the conception of duty.