I am the soul in limbo.

Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.

I am concerned with facts of quite unverifiable intrinsic value, but which, by their absolutely unexpected violently fortuitous character, and the kind of associations of suspect ideas they provoke.

Chastity is more a state of mind than of anatomy.

I like the beauty of physics, nature is beautiful, it is my second soul to music.

They say you can never step in the same river twice. New water flows in, replacing the old and continually renewing the river. The Senate is the same.

From the minute I wake up until I go to bed I think about food.

I can't speculate on what did or did not happen. I only know what I said and what I intended to convey.

I pour into the world the eternal streams Wan prophets tent beside, and dream their dreams.

The road to ruin is always in good repair, and the travellers pay the expense of it.

Our child will not be raised in tissue paper! We don't even want her to hear the word princess.

There is in this world no real delight (excepting those of sensuality), but exchange of ideas in conversation.

I've killed enough of the world's trees.