Look at the moon. How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. One might fancy she was looking for dead things.

The only thing that can console one for being poor is extravagance.

To get back one's youth one has merely to repeat one's follies.

this woman is a genius in the day time and a beauty at night

Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess.

Travel ennobles the spirit and does away with our prejudices.

[on his deathbed in a Paris hotel room] Either this wallpaper goes, or I do.