My Heart Is Lost; The Beasts Have

What Is Art? Prostitution.

Here Comes The Time When, Vibrating On Its Stem, Every Flower Fumes Like A Censer; Noises And Perfumes Circle In The Evening Air.

Nature... Is Nothing But The Inner Voice Of Self-interest.

Genius Is Simply Childhood, Rediscovered By An Act Of Will.

La' , Tout N'est Qu'ordre Et Beaute , Luxe, Calme Et Volupte . There Where All Is Order And Beauty. Lush, Calm And Voluptuous.