Wealth is an inborn attitude of mind, like poverty. The pauper who has made his pile may flaunt his spoils, but cannot wear them plausibly.

True realism consists in revealing the surprising things which habit keeps covered and prevents us from seeing.

Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what's known as infinity.

Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.

The insolence of wealth will creep out.

At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.

In my opinion, every rich man is a miser.