Dancing Is Poetry With Arms And Legs.

The Poet Is Like The Prince Of The Clouds, Who Haunts The Tempest And Laughs At The Archer. Exiled On The Ground In The Midst Of The Jeering Crowd, His Giant's Wings Keep Him From Walking.

Being A Useful Man Has Always Seemed To Me To Be Something Truly Hideous.

There Can Be No Progress-real, Moral Prgress-except In The Individual And By The Individual Himself.

All Forms Of Beauty, Like All Possible Phenomena, Contain An Element Of The Eternal And An Element Of The Transitory - Of The Absolute And Of The Particular. Absolute And Eternal Beauty Does Not Exist, Or Rather It Is Only An Abstraction Creamed From The General Surface Of Different Beauties. The Particular Element In Each Manifestation Comes From The Emotions: And Just As We Have Our Own Particular Emotions, So We Have Our Own Beauty.

This Industry [photography], By Invading The Territories Of Art, Has Become Art's Most Mortal Enemy.