The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDI found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.
More Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
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True life is elsewhere.
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I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
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I could never throw Love out of the window.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
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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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
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The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses.
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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 -
The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD