Dancing can reveal all the mystery that music conceals..

What is it that brings on these moods of yours? Nothing mysterious: the ordinary pain of being alive..

It would perhaps be nice to be alternately the victim and the executioner..

Laments of an Icarus The paramours of courtesans Are well and satisfied, content. But as for me my limbs are rent Because I clasped the clouds as min….

Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them ha….

Who would dare assign to art the sterile function of imitating nature?.

In order for the artist to have a world to express he must first be situated in this world, oppressed or oppressing, resigned or rebellious, a man am….

Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul..

Genius is simply childhood, rediscovered by an act of will..

My dear brothers, never forget, when you hear the progress of enlightenment vaunted, that the devil's best trick is to persuade you that he doesn't e….

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk..

The solitary and thoughtful stroller finds a singular intoxication in this universal communion. The man who loves to lose himself in a crowd enjoys f….

Good sense tells us that earthly things are rare and fleeting, and that true reality exists only in dreams. To draw sustenance from happiness- natura….

Genius is nothing more or less than childhood recovered by will, a childhood how equipped for self-expression with an adult's capacities..

Ne cherchez plus mon coeur; les be" tes l'ont mange . Don't search any further for my heart; wild beasts ate it..

Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will..

I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws..

La, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté Luxe, calme et volupté There, there is nothing else but grace and measure, Richness, quietness, and pleasure..

What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?.

I lived for a long time under vast porticos That maritime suns tinted with a thousand fires, And whose great pillars, straight and majestuous In the ….

Nature... is nothing but the inner voice of self-interest..