Genius Is A Promontory Jutting Out Into

Desiring Always To Be In Mourning, He Clothed Himself With Night.

It Is The End. But Of What? The End Of France? No. The End Of Kings? Yes.

As A Means Of Contrast With The Sublime, The Grotesque Is, In Our View, The Richest Source That Nature Can Offer.

What Dangers You Run, O Noble Souls! Often, You Give Your Heart, But We Take Only Your Body. Your Heart Is Left To You And You Look At It In The Shadows And Shudder.

God Made Only Water, But Man Made Wine.