As the end of the century approaches, all our culture is like flies at the beginning of winter. Having lost their agility, dreamy and demented, they turn slowly about the window in the first icy mists of morning,…then they fall down the curtains. – Charles Baudelaire
As a remedy against all ills; poverty, sickness, and melancholy only one thing is absolutely necessary; a liking for work. – Charles Baudelaire
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