The True Artist Can Only Labor Con

A Breath Of Paris Preserves The Soul.

The Mountains, The Forest, And The Sea, Render Men Savage; They Develop The Fierce, But Yet Do Not Destroy The Human.

Men Are Still Men. The Despot's Wickedness Comes Of Ill Teaching, And Of Power's Excess,-- Comes Of The Purple He From Childhood Wears, Slaves Would Be Tyrants If The Chance Were Theirs.

The Hatred Of Luxury Is Not An Intelligent Hatred. It Implies A Hatred Of Arts.

Curiosity Is Gluttony. To See Is To Devour.