A frenzied passion for art is a canker that devours everything else.
The act of love greatly resembles torture or surgery.
What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.
Sexuality is the lyricism of the masses.
This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
If the word doesn't exist, invent it; but first be sure it doesn't exist.