Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue.

What could be more simple and more complex, more obvious and more profound than a portrait.

The artist is today and has been for many years, despite his absence of merit, simply a spoiled child. So many honors, so much money bestowed on men without souls and without education.

Genius is simply childhood, rediscovered by an act of will.

Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul.

The idea which man forms of beauty imprints itself throughout his attire, rumples or stiffens his garments, rounds off or aligns his gestures, and, finally, even subtly penetrates the features of his face.

Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually.