Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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J'allais sous le ciel, Muse! et j'étais ton féal.
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J'ai embrassé l'aube d'été.
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I invented the colors of the vowels!--A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green--I made rules for the form and movement of each consonant, and, and with instinctive rhythms, I flattered myself that I had created a poetic language accessible, some day, to all the senses.
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The poet, therefore, is truly the thief of fire. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even; he will have to make sure his visions can be smelled, fondled, listened to; if what he brings back from beyond has form, he gives it form; if it has none, he gives it none. A language must be found…of the soul, for the soul and will include everything: perfumes, sounds colors, thought grappling with thought.
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True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
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Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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Plus léger qu'un bouchon j'ai dansé sur les flots.
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Je me suis baigné dans le PoèmeDe la Mer...Dévorant les azurs verts.
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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J'ai vu des archipels sidéraux! et des îlesDont les cieux délirants sont ouverts au vogueur:Est-ce en ces nuits sans fond que tu dors et t'exiles,Million d'oiseaux d'or, ô future Vigueur ?
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Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
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Je est un autre.
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Unhappiness was my god.
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The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences.
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J'ai vu le soleil bas, taché d'horreurs mystiques,Illuminant de longs figements violets,Pareils à des acteurs de drames très-antiques.
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...as for me, I am intact; and I don't care.
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Jadis, si je me souviens bien, ma vie était un festin où s'ouvraient tous les coeurs, où tous les vins coulaient.
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Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
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And from then on, I bathed in the Poem of the Sea, star-infused, and opalescent, devouring green azures.
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...I is another. If the brass wakes the trumpet, it’s not its fault. That’s obvious to me: I witness the unfolding of my own thought: I watch it, I hear it: I make a stroke with the bow: the symphony begins in the depths, or springs with a bound onto the stage. If the old imbeciles hadn’t discovered only the false significance of Self, we wouldn’t have to now sweep away those millions of skeletons which have been piling up the products of their one-eyed intellect since time immemorial, and claiming themselves to be their authors!
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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.