Drink Wine, Drink Poetry, Drink Virtue.

Whether You Come From Heaven Or Hell, What Does It Matter, O Beauty!

In Order Not To Feel Time's Horrid Fardel Bruise Your Shoulders, Grinding You Into The Earth, Get Drunk And Stay That Way. On What? On Wine, Poetry, Virtue, Whatever. But Get Drunk!

Love Is A Taste For Prostitution. In Fact, There Is No Noble Pleasure That Cannot Be Reduced To Prostitution.

Who Would Dare Assign To Art The Sterile Function Of Imitating Nature?

The Immense Appetite We Have For Biography Comes From A Deep-seated Sense Of Equality.