But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
ARTHUR RIMBAUDBut the problem is to make the soul into a monster
More Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
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What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
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I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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Weakness 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.
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It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
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I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.
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I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD