The great sins and fires break out of me like the terrible leaves from the bough in the violent spring. I am a walking fire, I am all leaves.

All great art contains an element of the irrational.

... all ugliness passes, and beauty endures, excepting of the skin.

I'm dying, but otherwise I'm in very good health.

Art is magic, not logic. This craze for the logical spirit in irrational shape is part of the present harmful mania for uniformity.

One's own surroundings means so much to one, when one is feeling miserable.

Vulgarity is, in reality, nothing but a modern, chic, pert descendant of the goddess Dullness.