Quotes from Charles Baudelaire

Am c?utat uitarea-n iubire: ce folos! C?ci dragostea mi-e numai un pat cu spini, f?cut S? dea acestor fete cumplite de b?ut!

Ange plein de gaieté, connaissez-vous l'angoisse, La honte, les remords, les sanglots, les ennuis, Et les vagues terreurs de ces affreuses nuits Qui compriment le coeur comme un papier qu'on froisse? Ange plein de gaieté, connaissez-vous l'angoisse?

Modernity is the transient, the fleeting, the contingent; it is one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immovable.

Life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed by the desire of changing his bed. One would prefer to suffer near the fire, and another is certain he would get well if he were by the window.

Almost all our evils arise from being unable to stay in our rooms," said another sage, Pascal. ("Yan?lm?yorsam Pascal, 'neredeyse tüm mutsuzluklar?m?z odam?zda kalmay? bilememiÅŸ olmam?zdan geliyor ba??m?za' der")

The act of love greatly resembles torture or surgery.

God is a scandal, - a profitable scandal.

Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées, Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers, Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers, Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées

Celui qui regarde du dehors à travers une fenêtre ouverte, ne voit jamais autant de choses que celui qui regarde une fenêtre fermée.

Dangerous girl, seductive as the weather! Shall I adore your snows and frosts together? In your relentless winter shall I feel A kiss more sharp than that of ice and steel?

Each day we're one step further into Hell, Content to move across the stinking pit.

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!

Cum alÅ£ii prin iubire-ar vrea,s? st?pâneasc? viaÅ£a ta,eu vreau s-o st?pânesc prin groaz?.

La soledad es el estado propio del genio y del elegido.

In certain almost supernatural states of mind, the profundity of life is revealed in its entirety in the spectacle, common as it may be, that we have before our eyes. It becomes the symbol of it.

Thanks be to God, Who gives us suffering as sacred remedy for all our sins, that best and purest essence which prepares the strong in spirit for divine delights!

He sadly resumes his path toward a desert that he knows is similar to the one he just crossed, escorted by the pale phantom they call Reason, who lights up the aridity of his path with a weak lantern, and who, when the thirst of passion comes back from time to time, quenches it with the poison of ennui.

A tender heart unnerved by nothingness hoards every fragment of the radiant past.

Mais qu'importe l'éternité de la damnation à qui a trouvé dans une seconde l'infini de la jouissance!

Our mortal eyes, however bright, are only darkened melancholy mirrors.

A room like a dream, a room truly spiritual, whose stagnant atmosphere is lightly tinted with pink and blue. It's a thing of the dusk, something bluish, pinkish; a sensual dream during an eclipse.

Dis-moi, ton coeur parfois s'envole-t-il, Agathe!

But why is she weeping? She, the perfect beauty, Who could put at her feet the conquered human race, What secret malady gnaws at those sturdy flanks? —She is weeping, fool, because she has lived! And because she lives! But what she deplores Most, what makes her shudder down to her knees, Is that tomorrow, alas! she will still have to live! Tomorrow, after tomorrow, always!—like us!

As if, with beasts' eyes, angels led The way, I slip back to your bed, Quiet as a hooded light, Hushed by the shadows of the night. And then, my dark one, you shall soon Embrace the cold beams of the moon, Around a fresh grave, the chilling hiss Of serpent coiled shall be my kiss. When morning shows his livid face Your bed shall feel my empty place, As cold as death, till fall of night. Others take tenderness to wife: Dread gives away your youth and life To me, to be the bride of fright.