Produced by David Widger QUOTES AND IMAGES: CONFESSIONS OF ROUSSEAU CONFESSIONS OF ROUSSEAU By Jean Jacques Rousseau A feeling heart the foundation of all my misfortunes A religion preached by such missionaries must lead to paradise! A subject not even fit to make a priest of A man, on being questioned, is immediately on his guard Adopted the jargon of books, than the knowledge they contained All animals are distrustful of man, and with reason All your evils proceed from yourselves! An author must be independent of success Ardor for learning became so far a madness Aversion to singularity Avoid putting our interests in competition with our duty Being beat like a slave, I judged I had a right to all vices Bilboquet Catholic must content himself with the decisions of others Caution is needless after the evil has happened Cemented by reciprocal esteem Considering this want of decency as an act of courage Conversations were more serviceable than his prescriptions Degree of sensuality had mingled with the smart and shame Die without the aid of physicians Difficult to think nobly when we think for a livelihood Dine at the hour of supper; sup when I should have been asleep Disgusted with the idle trifling of a convent Dissembler, though, in fact, I was only courteous Dying for love without an object Endeavoring to hide my incapacity, I rarely fail to show it Endeavoring to rise too high we are in danger of falling Ever appearing to feel as little for others as herself Finding in every disease symptoms similar to mine First instance of violence and oppression is so deeply engraved First time in my life, of saying, "I merit my own esteem" Flattery, or rather condescension, is not always a vice Force me to be happy in the manner they should point out Foresight with me has always embittered enjoyment Hastening on to death without having lived Hat, only fit to be carried under his arm Have the pleasure of seeing an ass ride on horseback Have ever preferred suffering to owing Her excessive admiration or dislike of everything Hold fast to aught that I have, and yet covet nothing more Hopes, in which self-love was by no means a loser How many wrongs are effaced by the embraces of a friend! I never much regretted sleep I strove to flatter my idleness I never heard her speak ill of persons who were absent I loved her too well to wish to possess her I felt no dread but that of being detected I was long a child, and am so yet in many particulars I am charged with the care of myself only I only wished to avoid giving offence I did not fear punishment, but I dreaded shame I had a numerous acquaintance, yet no more than two friends Idea of my not being everything to her Idleness is as much the pest of society as of solitude If you have nothing to do, you must absolutely speak continually In the course of their lives frequently unlike themselves In company I suffer cruelly by inaction