If the word doesn't exist, invent it; but first be sure it doesn't exist.

— ¡Ella llora, insensata, porque ella ha vivido! ¡Y porque vive! Pero, lo que ella deplora Sobre todo, lo que la hace temblar hasta las rodillas, Es que mañana, ¡ah! ¡tendrá que vivir todavía! ¡Mañana, pasado mañana y siempre! - ¡Como nosotros!

Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuéesQui hante la tempête et se rit de l’archer;Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,Ses ailes de géant l’empêchent de marcher.

In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.

I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.

This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.

What is exhilarating in bad taste is the aristocratic pleasure of giving offense.

Sexuality is the lyricism of the masses.

Progress, this great heresy of decay.