Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics! Arthur Rimbaud More Quotes by Arthur Rimbaud More Quotes From Arthur Rimbaud I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still. Arthur Rimbaud silenceinspirationalnight I don't love women. Love has to be reinvented, we know that. The only thing women can ultimately imagine is security. Once they get that, love, beauty, everything else goes out the window. All they have left is cold disdain; that's what marriages live on nowadays. Sometimes I see women who ought to be happy, with whom I could have found companionship, already swallowed up by brutes with as much feeling as an old log. Arthur Rimbaud dreamfeelingslove A thousand Dreams within me softly burn Arthur Rimbaud thousanddream Come from forever, and you will go everywhere. Arthur Rimbaud forever The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable. Arthur Rimbaud total-eclipseunbearable-thingsunbearable On the blue summer evenings, I will go along the paths, And walk over the short grass, as I am pricked by the wheat: Daydreaming I will feel the coolness on my feet. I will let the wind bathe my bare head. I will not speak, I will have no thoughts: But infinite love will mount in my soul; And I will go far, far off, like a gypsy, through the countryside - as happy as if I were a woman. "Sensation Arthur Rimbaud summerbluewind Life is the farce which everyone has to perform. Arthur Rimbaud farcelife-islife True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’. Arthur Rimbaud creativememorieslying I'm now making myself as scummy as I can. Why? I want to be a poet, and I'm working at turning myself into a seer. You won't understand any of this, and I'm almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses. It involves enormous suffering, but one must be strong and be a born poet. It's really not my fault. Arthur Rimbaud strongsufferingideas Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge. Arthur Rimbaud keysloveknowledge The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea Arthur Rimbaud kissinglightsea The poet, therefore, is truly the thief of fire. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even; he will have to make sure his visions can be smelled, fondled, listened to; if what he brings back from beyond has form, he gives it form; if it has none, he gives it none. A language must be found…of the soul, for the soul and will include everything: perfumes, sounds colors, thought grappling with thought Arthur Rimbaud colorfireanimal Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed. Arthur Rimbaud wineheartremember Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life. Arthur Rimbaud sensitiveyouthtime Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun. Arthur Rimbaud eternityseasun I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent Arthur Rimbaud not-knowingpaganknowing Je est un autre. (I is someone else). Arthur Rimbaud What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you? Arthur Rimbaud nothingness The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences. Arthur Rimbaud sufferingtryinglong 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. Arthur Rimbaud dreamheartrunning
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