True Civilization does not lie in gas, nor in steam, nor in turn-tables. It lies in the reduction of the traces of original sin.

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

The artist is today and has been for many years, despite his absence of merit, simply a spoiled child. So many honors, so much money bestowed on men without souls and without education.

And over your unconsecrated head you'll hear the howling wolves lament their fate and yours the livelong year.

The unique and supreme voluptuousness of love lies in the certainty of committing evil. And men and women know from birth that in evil is found all sensual delight.

What is irritating about love is that it is a crime that requires an accomplice.

Let us beware of common folk, of common sense, of sentiment, of inspiration, and of the obvious.