God is the only being who, in order to reign, doesn't even need to exist.

A Dandy does nothing.

What men call love is a very small, restricted, feeble thing compared with this ineffable orgy, this divine prostitution of the soul giving itself entire, all its poetry and all its charity, to the unexpected as it comes along, to the stranger as he passes.

Remembering is only a new form of suffering.

It is at despair at not being able to be noble and beautiful by natural means that we have made up our faces so strangely.

Any newspaper, from the first line to the last, is nothing but a web of horrors, I cannot understand how an innocent hand can touch a newspaper without convulsing in disgust.

We revel in the laxness of the path we take.