Infidelity (n.) is the greatest thing a woman can do for a man, says Victor Eremita — the sooner the better: it lifts him to an ideality of a higher power; woe to him if she remains faithful.
Infidelity (n.) as a married man's lack of faith is as bad as his unfaithfulness, though people talk only of the latter; one can desert a priest who doesn't believe, but a wife cannot desert her husband.
Infidelity (n.) at its most dangerous never breaks the vow but keeps it constantly undecided whether one is bound by it — a handclasp with something vague in it.
Infidelity (n.) robs more than one love: “you have taken from me my faith in love, not only my faith in your love.”
Infidelity (n.) is the child of silence: the spouse who dares confess loving another is saved by it; one who does not loses himself and seeks forgetfulness in the other.
Infidelity (n.) is just as great a sin in an insignificant calling as in the greatest — though its consequences for the whole are smaller, and I am the one who loses most.