The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless.

A flower blossoms for its own joy.

Discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation.

Every one is worthy of love, except him who thinks that he is. Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.

I like men who have a future and women who have a past.

Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.

There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature, that every fibre of the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful impulses. Men and women at such moments lose the freedom of their will. They move to their terrible end as automatons move. Choice is taken from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at all, lives but to give rebellion its fascination, and disobedience its charm.