Nature... is nothing but the inner voice of self-interest.

Today I felt pass over me A breath of wind from the wings of madness.

Our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze on its trivial image on a scrap of metal.

He possessed the logic of all good intentions and a knowledge of all the tricks of his trade, and yet he never succeeded at anything, because he believed too much in the impossible. Surprising? Why so? He was forever in the act of conceiving it!

Hashish will be, indeed, for the impressions and familiar thoughts of the man, a mirror which magnifies, yet no more than a mirror.

Nearly all our originality comes from the stamp that time impresses upon our sensibility.

Whether you come from heaven or hell, what does it matter, O Beauty!