In our corruption we perceive beauties unrevealed to ancient times.

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days, When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways, And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom, Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom

Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.

Dandyism is the last flicker of heroism in decadent ages.... Dandyism is a setting sun; like the declining star, it is magnificent, without heat and full of melancholy. But alas! the rising tide of democracy, which spreads everywhere and reduces everything to the same level, is daily carrying away these last champions of human pride, and submerging, in the waters of oblivion, the last traces of these remarkable myrmidons.

Love is the natural occupation of the man of leisure.

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

Genius is simply childhood, rediscovered by an act of will.