C'est l'Ennui! —l'œil chargé d'un pleur involontaire,Il rêve d'échafauds en fumant son houka.Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat,—Hypocrite lecteur,—mon semblable,—mon frère!
ENIVREZ-VOUSIl faut être toujours ivre, tout est là ; c'est l'unique question. Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du temps qui brise vos épaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer s...
Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.
How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
I love to think of those naked epochs Whose statues Phoebus liked to tinge with gold. At that time men and women, lithe and strong, Tasted the thrill of love free from care and prudery, And with the a...
L'orage rajeunit les fleurs
Les amants des prostituées Sont heureux, dispos et repus; Quant à moi, mes bras sont rompus Pour avoir étreint des nuées.
Life is a hospital, in which every patient is possessed by the desire to change his bed. This one would prefer to suffer in front of the stove, and that one believes he would get well if he were place...
Nature is a temple, where the livingColumns sometimes breathe confusing speech;
Ne cherchez plus mon cœur; des monstres l’ont mangé.
Nu disprețuiți sensibilitatea nimănui. Sensibilitatea fiecăruia e geniul lui.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
Regarding sleep, this sinister adventure of each night, one could say that people fall asleep daily with an audacity that would be incomprehensible if we didn't know that it results from their being o...
This life is a hospital in which each patient is possessed by the desire to change beds. One wants to suffer in front of the stove and another believes that he will get well near the window. It always...
Through the Unknown, we'll find the New
Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the u...
With heart at rest I climbed the citadel'sSteep height, and saw the city as from a tower,Hospital, brothel, prison, and such hells,Where evil comes up softly like a flower.Thou knowest, O Satan, patro...
You must be drunk always. That is everything: the only question. Not to feel the horrible burden of Time that crushes your shoulders and bends you earthward, you must be drunk without respite. But dru...
It would be difficult for me not to conclude that the most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as portrayed by Milton.
The unique and supreme voluptuousness of love lies in the certainty of committing evil. And men and women know from birth that in evil is found all sensual delight.
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