The sight of so many ruins destroys any desire to build shanties; all this ancient dust makes one indifferent to fame.

He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. Having fallen so far from so high a position, he loved anything that had also fallen from a great height

You must write for yourself, above all. That is your only hope of creating something beautiful.

I have come to have the firm conviction that vanity is the basis of everything, and finally that what one calls conscience is only inner vanity.

The better a work is, the more it attracts criticism; it is like the fleas who rush to jump on white linens.

One mustn't ask apple trees for oranges, France for sun, women for love, life for happiness.