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 as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.

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

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

The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.

Perfumes, colours and sounds echo one another.

Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.