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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!

And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!

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Faith God Greatness Love Man Philosophy

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Unknown Wait Yourself
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Mindset Moral Weakness
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Kiss Light Rise Sea
I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Believe Hell Myself
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beginning Myself Night Research Silence
Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Best Country Drink Hate Myself Sleep
I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

God Myself Ocean Tears
It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Body Break Human Mad Soft Voice
A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Imitation Mad Man Weird
Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Alcohol Bitter Love Poetry Strong
I could never throw Love out of the window.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Love Myself Window
O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Enchantment Flaw Myself Season Soul
Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Forever Nature Sea Sun
I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Erase Hope Human Myself Soul
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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Journey Poet Poison Travel
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Life True World

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