I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint it? It will mock me some day—mock me horribly!

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.

There is no Mystery so great as Misery.

There is something tragic about the enormous number of young men there are in England at the present moment who start life with perfect profiles, and end by adopting some useful profession.

There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.

One should always be a little improbable.