We should nourish our souls on the dew of Poesy, and manure them as well.

An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.

The vitality of a new movement in Art must be gauged by the fury it arouses.

All our lives we are putting pennies — our most golden pennies — into penny-in-the-slot machines that are almost always empty.

What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.

There is more felicity on the far side of baldness than young men can possibly imagine.

To become young again would seem to me an appalling prospect. Youth is a kind of delirium, which can be cured, if it is ever cured at all, by years of painful treatment.