In our corruption we perceive beauties unrevealed to ancient times.

Through the Unknown, we'll find the New

A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.

There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.

From that moment onwards, our loathsome society rushed, like Narcissus, to contemplate its trivial image on a metallic plate. A form of lunacy, an extraordinary fanaticism took hold of these new sun-worshippers.

The dance can reveal everything mysterious that is hidden in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.

Art is an infinitely precious good, a draught both refreshing and cheering which restores the stomach and the mind to the natural equilibrium of the ideal.