Charles Baudelaire Quotes
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Modernity is the transient, the fleeting, the contingent; it is one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immovable.
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Le génie n'est que l'enfance retrouvée à volonté, l'enfance douée maintenant, pour s'exprimer, d'organes virils et de l'esprit analytique qui lui permet d'ordonner la somme de matériaux involontairement amassée.
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Everything for me becomes allegory.
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The life of our city is rich in poetic and marvelous subjects. We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmosphere of the marvelous; but we do not notice it.
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All which is beautiful and noble is the result of reason and calculation.
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How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
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This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.
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La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliersLaissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;L’homme y passe à travers des forêts de symbolesQui l’observent avec des regards familiers.
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To be a great man and a saint for oneself, that is the only important thing.
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Swarming city, city full of dreams, Where the ghosts in broad daylight hang up the passers-by!
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Any newspaper, from the first line to the last, is nothing but a web of horrors, I cannot understand how an innocent hand can touch a newspaper without convulsing in disgust.
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A frenzied passion for art is a canker that devours everything else.
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It is time to get drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk; get drunk without stopping! On wine, on poetry, or on virtue, as you wish.
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Il faut travailler, sinon par goût, au moins par désespoir, puisque, tout bien vérifié, travailler est moins ennuyeux que s'amuser.
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It is the hour to be drunken! to escape being the martyred slaves of time, be ceaselessly drunk. On wine, on poetry, or on virtue, as you wish.
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Et à quoi bon exécuter des projets, puisque le projet est en lui-même une jouissance suffisante?
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Ne cherchez plus mon cœur; des monstres l’ont mangé.
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'En toi je tomberai, végétale ambroisie,Grain précieux jeté par l'éternel Semeur,Pour que de notre amour naisse la poésieQui jaillira vers Dieu comme une rare fleur!'
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I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.
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I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.
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It is by universal misunderstanding that all agree. For if, by ill luck, people understood each other, they would never agree.
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Music fathoms the sky.
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But a dandy can never be a vulgar man.
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Our religion is itself profoundly sad - a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated in each man's own language - so long as he knows anguish and is a painter.