What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.

The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself and others, as he wishes.

Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subject, nor exact truth, but in the way of feeling.

In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.

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

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.

Even in the centuries which appear to us to be the most monstrous and foolish, the immortal appetite for beauty has always found satisfaction.