Comme l’imagination a cre e le monde, elle le gouverne. Because imagination created the world, it governs it.
CHARLES BAUDELAIREThe life of our city is rich in poetic and marvelous subjects. We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmosphere of the marvelous; but we do not notice it.
More Charles Baudelaire Quotes
-
-
It is from the womb of art that criticism was born.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself and others, as he wishes.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal; from which it follows that irregularity – that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment, are a essential part and characteristic of beauty.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Multitude, solitude: equal and interchangeable terms for the active and prolific poet.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
The life of our city is rich in poetic and marvelous subjects. We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmosphere of the marvelous; but we do not notice it.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Through the Unknown, we’ll find the New
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Everything that gives pleasure has its reason. To scorn the mobs of those who go astray is not the means to bring them around.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
La volupte unique et supre” me de l’amour g|”t dans la certitude de faire le mal. The unique, supreme pleasure of love consists in the certainty of doing evil.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
What is love? The need of coming out of one’s self.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
What is irritating about love is that it is a crime that requires an accomplice.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
My soul travels on the smell of perfume like the souls of other men on music.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE -
Extract the eternal from the ephemeral.
CHARLES BAUDELAIRE