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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

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Dance Gold Myself Rope Star Window

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One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
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Beautiful Bitter Evening Myself Taste
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
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Myself Night Silence Stand Word World Writing
The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
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Affection Burn Delight Earth Heart Life Love Sun
In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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Appearance Children Fashion Greatness
Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
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Life One Liner Performance
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
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Beginning Myself Night Research Silence
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
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Hard Time Philosophy Suffering Wisdom
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.
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Kiss Light Rise Sea
Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
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Endurance Force Life
What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!
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Courage Death Love Myself Old
Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
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Best Country Drink Hate Myself Sleep
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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Life True World
The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Pain Poet
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.
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Himself Journey Poet Poison Travel
It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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Myself Thinking Wrong
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.
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Burn Dreams Inspirational Myself One Liner Soft

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