Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDGenius is the recovery of childhood at will.
More Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper – both of us – in ecstasy!
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But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
True life is elsewhere.
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I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
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.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
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My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
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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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD -
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
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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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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.
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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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As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.
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O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
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Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
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True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
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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.
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As for me, I am intact; and I don’t care.
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I could never throw Love out of the window.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD