Cats, So Strong And Gentle, The Pride

I Can Barely Conceive Of A Type Of Beauty In Which There Is No Melancholy.

To Glorify The Cult Of Images (my Great, My Only, My Earliest Passion).

Doubt, Or The Absence Of Faith And Naivete, Is A Vice Peculiar To This Age, For No One Is Obedient Nowadays; And Naivete, Which Means The Dominance Of Temperament In The Manner, Is A Gift From God, Possessed By Very Few.

Our Religion Is Itself Profoundly Sad - A Religion Of Universal Anguish, And One Which, Because Of Its Very Catholicity, Grants Full Liberty To The Individual And Asks No Better Than To Be Celebrated In Each Man's Own Language - So Long As He Knows Anguish And Is A Painter.

The Old Paris Is No More (the Form Of A City Changes Faster, Alas! Than A Mortal's Heart).