“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 has to give place.”
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Beauty is the sole ambition, the exclusive goal of Taste.
There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.
The lover of life makes the whole world into his family, just as the lover of the fair sex creates his from all the lovely women he has found, from those that could be found, and those who are impossible to find.
What is art? Prostitution.
