What Is Beautiful Is Moral, That Is

The Better A Work Is, The More It Attracts Criticism; It Is Like The Fleas Who Rush To Jump On White Linens.

Art Is Nothing Without Form.

And Indeed, What Is Better Than To Sit By One's Fireside In The Evening With A Book, While The Wind Beats Against The Window And The Lamp Is Buring?

Everything Which One Invents Is True, Be Sure Of It.

Madame Bovary Is Myself.