Joy Came Always After Pain.

Artists Are, Above All, Men Who Want To Become Inhuman.

One Day/ One Day I Waited For Myself/ I Said To Myself Guillaume It's Time You Came/ So I Could Know Just Who I Am/ I Who Know Others.

Without Artists, The Sublime Idea Men Have Of The Universe Would Collapse With Dizzying Speed.

People Quickly Grow Accustomed To Being The Slaves Of Mystery.

Vienne La Nuit Sonne L'heure Les Jours S'en Vont Je Demeure