When a singer puts his hand on his heart, it means usually, I will always love you!

You walk on corpses, beauty, undismayed.

The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries out in terror before he is defeated.

It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.

Who would dare assign to art the sterile function of imitating nature?

As a remedy against all ills - poverty, sickness, and melancholy - only one thing is absolutely necessary: a liking for work

My concern today is with the painting of manners of the present. The past is interesting not only by reason of the beauty which could be distilled from it by those artists for whom it was the present, but also precisely because it is the past, for its historical value. It is the same with the present. The pleasure which we derive from the representation of the present is due not only to the beauty with which it can be invested, but also to its essential quality of being present