Through the Unknown, we'll find the New

The Poet is like the prince of the clouds, who haunts the tempest and laughs at the archer. Exiled on the ground in the midst of the jeering crowd, his giant's wings keep him from walking.

That in all times, mediocrity has dominated, that is indubitable; but that it reigns more than ever, that it is becoming absolutely triumphant and inhibiting, this is what is as true as it is distressing.

It would be difficult for me not to conclude that the most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as portrayed by Milton.

A sweetheart is a bottle of wine, a wife is a wine bottle.

Sexuality is the lyricism of the masses.

The immense appetite we have for biography comes from a deep-seated sense of equality.