Perfumed and gallant words make our ears belch.

With a goose-quill and a few sheets of paper, I mock myself of the universe. They say I am the son of a courtesan; it may be so, but I have the heart of a King. I live free, I enjoy myself, I can call myself happy.

Desire is poison at lunch and wormwood at dinner; your bed is a stone, friendship is hateful and your fancy is always fixed on one thing.

Why should the eyes be denied what delights them most?

What evil is there in seeing a man possess a woman? Why, the beasts would be more free than we!

Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.

Nature without exercise is a seed shut up in a pod, and art without practice is nothing.