Life swarms with innocent monsters.

I am unable to understand how a man of honor could take a newspaper in his hands without a shudder of disgust.

I should like the fields tinged with red, the rivers yellow and the trees painted blue. Nature has no imagination.

It's the devil who pulls the strings that make us dance

Dancing can reveal all the mystery that music conceals.

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

Laments of an Icarus The paramours of courtesans Are well and satisfied, content. But as for me my limbs are rent Because I clasped the clouds as mine. I owe it to the peerless stars Which flame in the remotest sky That I see only with spent eyes Remembered suns I knew before. In vain I had at heart to find The center and the end of space. Beneath some burning, unknown gaze I feel my very wings unpinned And, burned because I beauty loved, I shall not know the highest bliss, And give my name to the abyss Which waits to claim me as its own.