Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.
CHARLES BAUDELAIREI love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.
More Charles Baudelaire Quotes
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What could be more simple and more complex, more obvious and more profound than a portrait.
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What is irritating about love is that it is a crime that requires an accomplice.
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A silent mouth is sweet to hear.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Through the Unknown, we’ll find the New
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
La volupte unique et supre” me de l’amour g|”t dans la certitude de faire le mal. The unique, supreme pleasure of love consists in the certainty of doing evil.
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Comme l’imagination a cre e le monde, elle le gouverne. Because imagination created the world, it governs it.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
My soul travels on the smell of perfume like the souls of other men on music.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
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.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Modernity is the transitory, the fugitive, the contingent, which make up one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immutable. This transitory fugitive element, which is constantly changing, must not be despised or neglected.
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This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Man loves man so much that when he flees the city, it is still to seek the crowd, that is, to rebuild the city in the country.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
It is from the womb of art that criticism was born.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
What is love? The need of coming out of one’s self.
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Extract the eternal from the ephemeral.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE