Heaven help the American-born boy with a talent for ballet.

What is pretty in nature is confined to the thin skin of the globe upon which we huddle. Scratch that skin, and nature's daemonic ugliness will erupt.

The female body is a chthonian machine, indifferent to the spirit who inhabits it.

The only thing that will be remembered about my enemies after they're dead is the nasty things I've said about them.

Western man represents himself, on the political or psychological stage, in a spectacular world-theater. Our personality is innately cinematic, light-charged projections flickering on the screen of Western consciousness.

Last time I checked, there were no Americans at all in Renaissance art.

Beauty is our weapon against nature; by it we make objects, giving them limit, symmetry, proportion. Beauty halts and freezes the melting flux of nature.