I Detest My Fellow-beings And Do Not

The Finest Works Of Art Are Those In Which There Is The Least Matter. The Closer Expression Comes To Thought, The More The Word Clings To The Idea And Disappears, The More Beautiful The Work Of Art.

Always 'duty.' I Am Sick Of The Word. They Are A Lot Of Old Blockheads In Flannel Vests And Of Old Women With Foot-warmers And Rosaries Who Constantly Drone Into Our Ears 'duty, Duty!' Ah! By Jove! One's Duty Is To Feel What Is Great, Cherish The Beautiful, And Not Accept All The Conventions Of Society With The Ignominy That It Imposes Upon Us.

By Working One Can Bend Fortune. She Is Fond Of Crafty Men.

One Mustn't Ask Apple Trees For Oranges, France For Sun, Women For Love, Life For Happiness.

It Seems To Me That I Have Always Existed And That I Possess Memories That Date Back To The Pharaohs.