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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

Related Topics

Myself Name Night Poet Record Silence Writing

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

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

Courage Death Love Myself Old
The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Affection Burn Delight Earth Heart Life Love Sun
O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Enchantment Flaw Myself Season Soul
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Hard Time Philosophy Suffering Wisdom
Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Night Sleep Yourself
But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Monster Problem Soul Transformation
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Life True World
I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Alone Himself Key Possession
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
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
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
I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Myself Name Night Poet Record Silence Writing
A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Imitation Mad Man Weird
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
In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Appearance Children Fashion Greatness
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Beautiful Bitter Evening Myself Taste

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