CONFESSIONS OF ROUSSEAU



By Jean Jacques Rousseau





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Stealing an Apple





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The Laboratory





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The Hermitage





A feeling heart the foundation of allmy misfortunesA religion preached by suchmissionaries must lead to paradise!A subject not even fit to make a priestofA man, on being questioned, isimmediately on his guardAdopted the jargon of books, than theknowledge they containedAll animals are distrustful of man, andwith reasonAll your evils proceed from yourselves!An author must be independent ofsuccessArdor for learning became so far amadnessAversion to singularityAvoid putting our interests incompetition with our dutyBeing beat like a slave, I judged I hada right to all vicesBilboquetCatholic must content himself with thedecisions of othersCaution is needless after the evil hashappenedCemented by reciprocal esteemConsidering this want of decency as anact of courageConversations were more serviceablethan his prescriptionsDegree of sensuality had mingled withthe smart and shameDie without the aid of physiciansDifficult to think nobly when we thinkfor a livelihoodDine at the hour of supper; sup when Ishould have been asleepDisgusted with the idle trifling of aconventDissembler, though, in fact, I was onlycourteousDying for love without an objectEndeavoring to hide my incapacity, Irarely fail to show itEndeavoring to rise too high we are indanger of fallingEver appearing to feel as little forothers as herselfFinding in every disease symptomssimilar to mineFirst instance of violence andoppression is so deeply engravedFirst time in my life, of saying, "Imerit my own esteem"Flattery, or rather condescension, isnot always a viceForce me to be happy in the manner theyshould point outForesight with me has always embitteredenjoymentHastening on to death without havinglivedHat, only fit to be carried under hisarmHave the pleasure of seeing an ass rideon horsebackHave ever preferred suffering to owingHer excessive admiration or dislike ofeverythingHold fast to aught that I have, and yetcovet nothing moreHopes, in which self-love was by nomeans a l                        
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