Il me semble que je serais toujours bien la ou je ne suis pas.It seems to me that I will always be happy in the place where I am not.
To be wicked is never excusable, but there is some merit in knowing that you are; the most irreparable of vices is to do evil from stupidity.
Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them has to give place.
My love, do you recall the object which we saw,That fair, sweet, summer morn!At a turn in the path a foul carcassOn a gravel strewn bed,Its legs raised in the air, like a lustful woman,Burning and dri...
I am a cemetery by the moon unblessed.
Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more mysterious, more pregnant, more insidious, more dazzling...
There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.
Whether you come from heaven or hell, what does it matter, O Beauty!
Evil is done without effort, naturally, it is the working of fate good is always the product of an art.
Or poking through a house, in closets shut for years,Full of the scent of time - acrid, musky, dank,One comes, perhaps, upon a flask of memoriesIn whose escaping scent a soul returns to life.-
I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on, The windows and the stars illumined, one by one, The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily, And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see Th...
Le Goût du néantMorne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’épéron attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacl...
Ant swarming CityCity full of dreamsWhere in broad day the specter tugs your sleeve
I set out to discover the why of it, and to transform my pleasure into knowledge.
There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.
Our religion is itself profoundly sad - a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated...
Always be a poet, even in prose.
The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries out in terror before being vanquished.
No task is a long one but the task on which one dare not start. It becomes a nightmare.
It's time, Old Captain, lift anchor, sink!The land rots; we shall sail into the night;if now the sky and sea are black as inkour hearts, as you must know, are filled with light.Only when we drink pois...