The years I have squandered in puerile excitement, in going hither and thither, in seeking to force nature and time, I ought to have spent in solitude and meditation, in endeavoring to make myself worthy of being loved.

[Great artists] do not copy what they see, but what they desire.

Modesty was made for the ugly.

The word poet literally means maker: anything which is not well made doesn't exist.

The cat makes himself the companion of your hours of solitude, melancholy and toil.

The cat is a dilettante in fur.

I am a man for whom the outside world exists.