It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDIt is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDOh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper – both of us – in ecstasy!
ARTHUR RIMBAUDBut the problem is to make the soul into a monster
ARTHUR RIMBAUDBut, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDYou feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDLife is the farce we are all forced to endure.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDMy wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUDWeakness or strength: you exist, that is strength. You don’t know where you are going or why you are going, go in everywhere, answer everyone. No one will kill you, any more than if you were a corpse.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI 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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDWhat is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUDOnce, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDThe wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDYour memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD