The Louvre Is A Morgue; You Go

I Have Not Looked At A Newspaper In Twenty Years; If One Is Brought Into The Room, I Flee. This Is Not Because I Am Indifferent But Because One Cannot Follow Every Road.

The Speed Of A Runaway Horse Counts For Nothing.

A True Poet Does Not Bother To Be Poetical. Nor Does A Nursery Gardener Scent His Roses.

Art Is Science Made Flesh.

A Little Too Much Is Just Enough For Me.