Like those great sphinxes lounging through eternity in noble attitudes upon the desert sand, they gaze incuriously at nothing, calm and wise.

Life has but one true charm: the charm of the game. But what if we’re indifferent to whether we win or lose?

I have cultivated my hysteria with delight and terror. Now I suffer continually from vertigo, and today, 23rd of January, 1862, I have received a singular warning, I have felt the wind of the wing of madness pass over me.

I have to confess that I had gambled on my soul and lost it with heroic insouciance and lightness of touch. The soul is so impalpable, so often useless, and sometimes such a nuisance, that I felt no more emotion on losing it than if, on a stroll, I had mislaid my visiting card.

I have cultivated my hysteria with pleasure and terror.

I should like the fields tinged with red, the rivers yellow and the trees painted blue. Nature has no imagination.

Perfumes, colours and sounds echo one another.