There is no describing the feeling of being mistreated by a successful rival in front of the woman you worship.

Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair. He will paint her, and go mad.

You are cold, while you yourself fan flames.

Now her eyes meet mine like green lightning-they are green, these eyes of hers, whose power is so indescribable-green, but as are precious stones, or deep unfathomable mountain lakes.

Whoever allows himself to be whipped, deserves to be whipped.

The true comic muse is the one with tears running down under her laughing mask.

I love her passionately with a morbid intensity; madly as one can only love a woman who never responds to our love with anything but an eternally uniform, eternally calm, stony smile.