“What is a poet? An unhappy being who hides deep anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh escapes them, it sounds like beautiful music.”

“She walks in beauty, like the night”

“I'm just a musical prostitute, my dear.”

“Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

“The cinema is an old whore, like circus and variety, who knows how to give many kinds of pleasure.”