Nature Is A Temple In Which Living

Sexuality Is The Lyricism Of The Masses.

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

Perfumes, Colours And Sounds Echo One Another.

Every Idea Is Endowed Of Itself With Immortal Life, Like A Human Being. All Created Form, Even That Which Is Created By Man, Is Immortal. For Form Is Independent Of Matter: Molecules Do Not Constitute Form.

I Am Bored In France Because Everyone Resembles Voltaire.