Arthur Rimbaud Quotes

I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn

Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.

The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.

Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.

True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.

Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

Je est un autre. (I is someone else).

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.

Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent

Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.

Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?

Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!

Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea

Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!

I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.

You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.

...as for me, I am intact; and I don't care.

The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.

I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.

What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?

The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

No one's serious at seventeen.

O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.

What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.

And again: No more gods! no more gods! Man is King, Man is God! - But the great Faith is Love!

True life is elsewhere

You will always be a hyena.

And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.

What am I doing here?

Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?

And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.

I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.

I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.

It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.

Morality is the weakness of the mind.

But the problem is to make the soul into a monster