“It is from the womb of art that criticism was born.”
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This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.
Modernity signifies the transitory, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art of which the other half is the eternal and the immutable.
The unique and supreme voluptuousness of love lies in the certainty of committing evil. And men and women know from birth that in evil is found all sensual delight.
Those men get along best with women who can get along best without them.