Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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Un soir, j'ai assis la Beauté sur mes genoux. - Et je l'ai trouvée amère. - Et je l'ai injuriée.
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I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
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Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!
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Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
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Il pleut doucement sur la ville.
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A noir, E blanc, I rouge, U vert, O bleu: voyelles,Je dirai quelque jour vos naissances latentes !
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Je parvins à faire s'évanouir dans mon esprit toute l'espérance humaine.
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Je suis esclave de mon baptême.
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He would say, "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away..." And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.
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O saisons, ô châteaux,Quelle âme est sans défauts ?
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Here I am on the shore of Brittany. Let the cities light up in the evening. My day is done. I am leaving Europe. The sea air will burn my lungs. Lost climates will tan me. I will swim, trample the grass, hung, and smoke especially. I will drink alcohol as strong as boiling metal--just as my dear ancestors did around their fires.
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All day long he was docile, intelligent, good, Though sometimes changing to a darker mood. He seemed hypocritical, could tell better lies, in the dark he saw dots of colors behind closed eyes, clenched fists, put his tongue out at his elder brother.
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For a long time I found the celebrities of modern painting and poetry ridiculous. I loved absurd pictures, fanlights, stage scenery, mountebanks backcloths, inn-signs, cheap colored prints; unfashionable literature, church Latin, pornographic books badly spelt, grandmothers novels, fairy stories, little books for children, old operas, empty refrains, simple rhythms.
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Mon triste coeur bave à la poupe.
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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.
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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
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I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic. I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
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Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
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What an old maid I'm getting to be. lacking the courage to be in love with death!
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I'm now making myself as scummy as I can. Why? I want to be a poet, and I'm working at turning myself into a seer. You won't understand any of this, and I'm almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses. It involves enormous suffering, but one must be strong and be a born poet. It's really not my fault.
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I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.
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O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
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I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
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The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.