The Universe Appears To Me Like An

Wherever He Goes, Whatever He Does, He Will Always See That Word: Murder—immortally Inscribed Upon The Pediment Of That Vast Slaughterhouse—humanity.

While I Was An Honorable Man In Her Eyes, She Did Not Love Me. But The Minute She Understood What I Was, When She Breathed The True And Foul Odor Of My Soul, Love Was Born In Her – For She Does Love Me! Well, Well! There Is Nothing Real, Then, Except Evil.

As Soon As I Find Myself In The Presence Of A Rich Man, I Cannot Help Looking Upon Him As An Exceptional And Beautiful Being, As A Sort Of Marvellous Divinity, And, In Spite Of Myself, Surmounting My Will And My Reason, I Feel Rising, From The Depths Of My Being, Toward This Rich Man, Who Is Very Often An Imbecile, And Sometimes A Murderer, Something Like An Incense Of Admiration. Is It Not Stupid? And Why? Why?

Great Ladies ... Are Like The Best Sauces -- It Is Better Not To Know How They Are Made.

You're Obliged To Pretend Respect For People And Institutions You Think Absurd. You Live Attached In A Cowardly Fashion To Moral And Social Conventions You Despise, Condemn, And Know Lack All Foundation.