There are women who inspire you with the desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them; but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly beneath her gaze.

If rape or arson, poison or the knife Has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff Of this drab canvas we accept as life - It is because we are not bold enough!

I watch the springs, the summers, the autumns; And when comes the winter snow monotonous, I shut all the doors and shutters To build in the night my fairy palace.

The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.

And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, "Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!

What is art? Prostitution.

Nature is a word, an allegory, a mold, an embossing, if you will.