O naked flower of my lips, you lie! I await a thing unknown or perhaps, unaware of the mystery and your cries you give, O lips, the supreme tortured moans of a childhood groping among its reveries to sort out finally its cold precious stones. Stephane Mallarme More Quotes by Stephane Mallarme More Quotes From Stephane Mallarme The flesh is sad, alas, and I have read all the books. Stephane Mallarme alas flesh book Poetry is the language of a state of crisis. Stephane Mallarme states language poetry There is only beauty / and it has only one perfect expression / poetry. All the rest is a lie /except for those who live by the body, love, and, that love of the mind, friendship. For me, Poetry takes the place of love, because it is enamored of itself, and because its sensual delight falls back deliciously in my soul. Stephane Mallarme love-is lying fall In a museum in London there is an exhibit called "The Value of Man": a long coffinlike box with lots of compartments where they've put starch phosphorus flour bottles of water and alcohol and big pieces of gelatin. I am a man like that. Stephane Mallarme water men museums It is in front of the the paper that the artist creates himself. Stephane Mallarme fronts artist paper The reproach that superficial people formulate against Manet, that whereas once he painted ugliness, now he paints vulgarity, falls harmlessly to the ground, when we recognize the fact that he paints the truth. Stephane Mallarme facts people fall As for me, Poetry takes the place of love, because it is enamored of itself, and because this self-lust has a delightful dying fall in my soul. Stephane Mallarme self love-is fall Dreams have as much influence as actions. Stephane Mallarme The flesh, alas, is sad, and I have read all the books. Stephane Mallarme read books alas sad
