There are but three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the warrior and the poet. To know, to kill and to create. The rest of mankind may be taxed and drudged, they are born for the stable, that is to say, to practise what they call professions.

The dandy should aspire to be uninterruptedly sublime. He should live and sleep in front of a mirror.

The life of our city is rich in poetic and marvelous subjects. We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmosphere of the marvelous; but we do not notice it.

Extract the eternal from the ephemeral.

We are weighed down, every moment, by the conception and the sensation of Time. And there are but two means of escaping and forgetting this nightmare: pleasure and work. Pleasure consumes us. Work strengthens us. Let us choose.

the Devil's hand directs our every move - / the things we loathed become the things we love

...an industry which can furnish results identical to nature must be the absolute in art.