Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.

And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, "Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!

I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.

He who looks through an open window sees fewer things than he who looks through a closed window.

The cannon thunders... limbs fly in all directions... one can hear the groans of victims and the howling of those performing the sacrifice... it's Humanity in search of happiness.

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days, When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways, And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom, Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom

There are some temptations which are so strong that they must be virtues.