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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!

What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!

Related Topics

Courage Death Love Myself Old

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

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Endurance Force Life
And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Faith God Greatness Love Man Philosophy
To whom shall I hire myself out? What beast should I adore? What holy image is attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lies shall I uphold? In what blood tread?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Admire Blood Evil Heart Image Monster Myself
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
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Childhood Discover Genius
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
My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Compare Myself Wait Wisdom
Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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Forever Yourself
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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Blood Burn Dreams Heart Myself Soft Time Tree
But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Bitter Cry Heart Broken Moon Myself Sun True
You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
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Feeling Life Lips Small Yourself
I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Death Devotion Earth Love Myself
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
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Hard Time Philosophy Suffering Wisdom
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beautiful Bitter Evening Myself Taste
Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Criticism Judgement Proper
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Kiss Light Rise Sea

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