I set out to discover the why of it, and to transform my pleasure into knowledge.

...an industry which can furnish results identical to nature must be the absolute in art.

Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them has to give place.

Our religion is itself profoundly sad - a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated in each man's own language - so long as he knows anguish and is a painter.

What do I care if you are good? Be beautiful! and be sad!

It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.

Where one should see only what is beautiful, our public looks only for what is true.