The sap rises and, itself a mixture of elements, flowers in a mixture of tones; the trees, the rocks, the granites cast their reflections in the mirror of the water; all the transparent objects seize...
When I was young I lived a constant storm,Though now and then the brilliant suns shot through,So in my garden few red fruits were born,The rain and thunder had so much to do.-
He who looks through an open window sees fewer things than he who looks through a closed window.
The man who says his prayers in the evening is a captain posting his sentries. After that he can sleep.
I have cultivated my hysteria with joy and terror.
Be Drunken, Always. That is the point; nothing else matters. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weigh you down and crush you to the earth, be drunken continually.
N'es-tu pas l'oasis où je rêve, et la gourdeOù je hume à long traits le vin du souvenir ?
Seek my heart no longer; the beasts have eaten it.
Thanks be to God, Who gives us sufferingas sacred remedy for all our sins,that best and purest essence which preparesthe strong in spirit for divine delights!
The man who is unable to people his solitude is equally unable to be alone in a bustling crowd. The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself or some one else, as he chooses....
The room was filled with deep, raucous sighs, sudden sobs, silent floods of tears. The horrified musician stopped,and going up to the man whose bliss was expressing itself most noisily, he asked him i...
I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.
I believe that the infinite and mysterious charm that lies in the contemplation of a moving vessel is caused, firstly, by the regularity and symmetry that are among the primordial needs of the human s...
I walk alone, absorbed in my fantastic play, — Fencing with rhymes, which, parrying nimbly, back away; Tripping on words, as on rough paving in the street, Or bumping into verses I long had dreamed to...
L'étude du beau est un duel où l'artiste crie de frayeur avant d'être vaincu.
Mes bras sont rompus pour avoir étreint des nuées.
Samuel was, more than all the others, the man of failed works of beauty; – a fantastical and sickly creature, whose poetry shines forth much more in his person than in his works, and who, around one o...
The Devil's hand directs our every movethe things we loathed become the things we love;day by day we drop through stinking shadesquite undeterred on our descent to Hell.
Εγώ λέγω ότι η μοναδική και υπέρτατη ηδονή του έρωτα έγκειται στη βεβαιότητα ότι κάνουμε το κακό.
An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all...
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