I don’t regret for a single moment having lived for pleasure. I did it to the full, as one should do everything that one does.
The only people I would care to be with now are artists and people who have suffered: those who know what beauty is, and those who know what sorrow is: nobody else interests me.
I became the spendthrift of my own genius, and to waste an eternal youth gave me a curious joy.
Terrible as was what the world did to me, what I did to myself was far more terrible still.