Tell me, enigmatical man, whom do you love the best, your father,
your mother, your sister, or your brother?
I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother.
Your friends?
Now you use a word whose meaning I have never known.
Your country?
I do not know under what latitude it lies.
Beauty?
I could indeed love her, Goddess and Immortal.
Gold?
I hate it as as you hate God.
Then, what do you love, extraordinary stranger?
I love the clouds … the clouds that pass … up there …
up there … the wonderful clouds!

- Charles Baudelaire