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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - I 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.

I 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.

Related Topics

Action Brain Fate Force Happiness Life Moral Waste Way Weakness

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

Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Divine Key Knowledge Love
But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Monster Problem Soul Transformation
I 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 RIMBAUD

Action Brain Fate Force Happiness Life Moral Waste Way Weakness
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Life True World
I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Myself Sky Under
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
It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

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

Endurance Force Life
In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Appearance Children Fashion Greatness
And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Alive Believe Forever Hell Man Myself True
True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Creativity Formula Impulse Memories Nourish True
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
Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Celebration Heart Life Myself Open Remember Wine
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Dance Gold Myself Rope Star Window
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Blood Break Heart Lying Myself
A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Imitation Mad Man Weird

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