Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul.
the Devil's hand directs our every move - / the things we loathed become the things we love
The beautiful is always bizarre.
As the end of the century approaches, all our culture is like flies at the beginning of winter. Having lost their agility, dreamy and demented, they turn slowly about the window in the first icy mists of morning, . . . [then] they fall down the curtains.
Passion I hate, and spirit does me wrong. Let us love gently.
In order for the artist to have a world to express he must first be situated in this world, oppressed or oppressing, resigned or rebellious, a man among men.