would watch over all the movements of your soul, nay, even the
external movements of your body.

That fugitive thought which enters your mind, fanned by curiosity's
wing, may seem quite trivial; to dwell on and delight in it may be to
you something indifferent. That sentiment which, scarcely formed,
commences to germinate in your heart, and to produce therein emotions
so imperceptible that you are but imperfectly conscious of its
presence, seems insignificant at first sight; that unguarded glance
seemed to you a matter of no import, and which, at an earlier or
later period of your life, would have but little consequence. At an
earlier age the impression, it is true, would be lively but
inconsistent, and the levity of childhood would soon have replaced it
by another; later it would be found so superficial and trivial that
it would be soon forgotten among the multiplicity of thoughts which
absorb the mind at the age of maturity; but, during the youthful
years, everything that comes under the notice of the senses sinks
deeply into the soul, penetrating its very substance, the faculties
still retain all the vivacity of youth, while already they
participate in that firmness which is characteristic of the age of
maturity.

That thought is, perhaps, the first link in a chain of thoughts and
images which will be the torment of your conscience and the bane of
your life. That sentiment to which you imprudently pandered is
perhaps the source of countless fears, regrets, remorse and sorrows.
That imprudent glance is perhaps the first spark of a conflagration
which nothing can extinguish, and which will destroy your brightest
hopes.