Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
ARTHUR RIMBAUDFaith assuages, guides, restores.
More Arthur Rimbaud Quotes
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As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.
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One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
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I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.
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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
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Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
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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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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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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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I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
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As for me, I am intact; and I don’t care.
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
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I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent.
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Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?
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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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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea.
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
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Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
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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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Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
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I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.
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What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!
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A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he?
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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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I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
ARTHUR RIMBAUD