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
Whether you come from heaven or hell, what does it matter, O Beauty! – Charles Baudelaire
What is exhilarating in bad taste is the aristocratic pleasure of giving offense. – Charles Baudelaire
Everything considered, work is less boring than amusing oneself. – Charles Baudelaire
What culture lacks is the taste for anonymous, innumerable germination. Culture is smitten with counting and measuring; it feels out of place and uncomfortable with the innumerable; its efforts tend, on the contrary, to limit the numbers in all domains; it tries to count on its fingers. – Jean Dubuffet