Suicide, moreover, was at the time in vogue in Paris: what more suitable key to the mystery of life for a skeptical society?
The innocence of virgins is like milk which turns when exposed to a clap of thunder, to a tart smell, to a hot day, to the merest nothing.
Poetry is only born after painful journeys into the vast regions of thought.
Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane.
Necessity is often the spur to genius.
The press is like a woman: sublime when it lies, it will not let go until it has forced you to believe it. The public, like a foolish husband, always succumbs.