Sensuality, wanting a religion, invented Love.

Eternity: what a waste of time.

All expression, all art, is an indiscretion we commit against ourselves. This is not an 'impoverishment' but an increase in wealth, for it is in this way that we make the short hours of our lives live on beyond themselves.

I love the love of those who are far enough away, it becomes whatever I wish to believe it.

To be one's own master is to be the slave of self.

To think about and prepare for war is boring, boring for everyone. It's being locked in barracks.

If only art were as rare as good taste.