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Arthur Rimbaud Quote - Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?

Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?

Related Topics

Blood Break Heart Lying Myself

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Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Life One Liner Performance
What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
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Unknown Wait Yourself
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
Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
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Acceptance Glory Night Patience Reality Strength Tender
And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
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Faith God Greatness Love Man Philosophy
I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
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God Myself Ocean Tears
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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Himself Journey Poet Poison Travel
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Burn Dreams Inspirational Myself One Liner Soft
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
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
Faith assuages, guides, restores.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Faith Guide One Liner Restore
But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Monster Problem Soul Transformation
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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Mindset Moral Weakness
I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Myself Sky Under
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
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

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