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" "To give you an idea of my state of mind I can not do better than compare it to one of those rooms we see nowadays in which are collected and mingled the furniture of all times and countries. Our age has no impress of its own. We have impressed the seal of our time neither on our houses nor our gardens, nor on anything that is ours. On the street may be seen men who have their beards trimmed as in the time of Henry III, others who are clean-shaven, others who have their hair arranged as in the time of Raphael, others as in the time of Christ. So the homes of the rich are cabinets of curiosities: the antique, the gothic, the style of the Renaissance, that of Louis XIII, all pell-mell. In short, we have every century except our own — a thing which has never been seen at any other epoch: eclecticism is our taste; we take everything we find, this for beauty, that for utility, another for antiquity, still another for its ugliness even, so that we live surrounded by debris, as if the end of the world were at hand.
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay (11 December 1810 – 2 May 1857) was a French dramatist, poet, and novelist. Along with his poetry, he is known for writing the autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century).
Biography information from Wikipedia
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A Mademoiselle
Oui, femmes, quoi qu'on puisse dire,
Vous avez le fatal pouvoir
De nous jeter par un sourire Dans l'ivresse ou le désespoir. Oui, deux mots, le silence même,
Un regard distrait ou moqueur,
Peuvent donner à qui vous aime
Un coup de poignard dans le coeur. Oui, votre orgueil doit être immense,
Car, grâce à notre lâcheté,
Rien n'égale votre puissance,
Sinon votre fragilité. Mais toute puissance sur terre
Meurt quand l'abus en est trop grand,
Et qui sait souffrir et se taire
S'éloigne de vous en pleurant. Quel que soit le mal qu'il endure,
Son triste rôle est le plus beau.
J'aime encore mieux notre torture
Que votre métier de bourreau.