The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDIt is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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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And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! – But the great Faith is Love!
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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
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And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.
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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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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.
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Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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True life is elsewhere.
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
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The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.
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Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
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I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
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Faith assuages, guides, restores.
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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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To whom shall I hire myself out? What beast should I adore? What holy image is attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lies shall I uphold? In what blood tread?
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Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
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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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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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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
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Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD