We become lovers when we see Romeo and Juliet, and Hamlet makes us students. The blood of Duncan is upon our hands, with Timon werage against the world, and when Lear wanders out upon the heath the terror of madness touches us. Ours is the white sinlessness of Desdemona, and ours, also, the sin of Iago.

I don't want to earn my living, I want to live.

Sin is the only real colour element left in modern life.

A glass of absinthe is as poetical as anything in the world. What difference is there between a glass of absinthe and a sunset?

She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses but in all my garden there is no red rose.

He had that curious love of green, which in individuals is always the sign of a subtle artistic temperament, and in nations is said to denote a laxity, if not a decadence of morals.

Consistency is the last refuge of the unimagininative.