Quotes from Arthur Rimbaud

He malgastado mi vida. ¡Vamos! Finjamos, holguemos, ¡oh piedad! Y existiremos divirtiéndonos, soñando amores monstruosos y universos fantásticos, quejándonos y combatiendo las apariencias del mundo, saltimbanqui, mendigo, artista, bandido, ¡sacerdote! Sobre mi lecho de hospital, el olor del incienso retornó a mí tan potente; guardián de aromas sagrados, confesor, mártir…

This lofty thought proves I dreamt it!

Am sfârÅŸit prin a socoti sacr? dezordinea minÅ£ii mele.Eram trândav,prad? unei febre ap?s?toare:pizmuiam fericirea dobitoacelor,pizmuiam ÅŸi omizile,care întruchipeaz? inocenÅ£a limburilor,la fel ÅŸi cârtiÅ£ele,ÅŸi somnul virginit??ii!

Weakness or strength: you exist, that is strength. You don't know where you are going or why you are going, go in everywhere, answer everyone. No one will kill you, any more than if you were a corpse.

Comme elle vous trouve immensément naïf, Tout en faisant trotter ses petites bottines, Elle se tourne, alerte et d'un mouvement vif.... Sur vos lèvres alors meurent les cavatines...

While public funds evaporate in feasts of fraternity, a bell of rosy fire rings in the clouds.

From castles of bone unknown music comes

how full of flowers the world was that summer! Tunes and forms fading... ––A choir, to calm down impotence and absence! A choir of glass pieces, of nocturnal melodies... Soon, indeed, the nerves will slip their moorings.

Ben bir baÅŸkas?d?r. Kendini keman olarak duyumsayan oduna yaz?k. Hiç bilmedikleri konularda tart??an bilinçsiz insanlar? küçümsüyorum.

O may it come, the time of love, The time we'd be enamoured of. - Song of the Highest Tower

Tenemos fe en el veneno. Sabemos dar nuestra vida entera, todos los días. He aquí el tiempo de los asesinos.

Terror came. I would fall into a slumber of days, and getting up would go on with the same sad dreams. I was ripe for death and along a road of perils my weakness led me to the confines of the world and of Cimmeria, home of whirlwinds and of darkness. - Delirium II - Alchemy of the Word

Children's laughter marks both beginning and end. This poison lingers in our veins even when we withdraw to the silence of prior discord.

When I was very young, I admired hardened criminals locked behind prison doors; I visited inns and taverns they frequented; with their eyes, I saw the blue sky and the blossoming work of the fields; I tracked their scent through cities. They were more powerful than saints, more prudent than explorers—and they, they alone, were witnesses to glory and reason!

El cerebro del hombre está atiborrado de trapos.

In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that perhaps those whom I met did not see me.

The first study for a man who wants to be a poet is the knowledge of himself, entire. He searches his soul, he inspects it, he tests it, he learns it. As soon as he knows it, he cultivates it.

On the roads, through winter nights, without a home, without habits, without bread, a voice strangled my frozen heart: "Weakness or strength: Those are your options, so strength it is. You know neither where you're going, nor why you're going, entering anywhere, answering anyone. You're no more likely to be killed than a corpse." By morning, I had developed such a lost, dead expression that those I met may not have even seen me.

I was ripe for death and along a road of perils my weakness led me to the confines of the world and of Cimmeria, home of whirlwinds and of darkness. from Delirium (II), Alchemy of the Wind - Hunger

La Poésie ne rythmera plus l'action; elle sera en avant.

moja ojczyzna powstaje!... Wol? j? ogl?da? siedz?c?... [Pi?tnastoletni Arthur Rimbaud w li?cie do Georgesa Izambard z 25 sierpnia 1870]

Vei r?mâne o hien?",exclam? demonul care îmi încisese fruntea cu o cunun? de maci superbi."DobândeÅŸte-Å£i moartea,cu toate poftele tale,cu egoismul t?u ÅŸi cu toate p?catele tale grele!

O vento Sul me fez lembrar miseráveis incidentes de infância, meus desesperos de verão, a horrível quantidade de força e de ciência que o destino sempre afastou de mim. Não! não passaremos o verão neste país mesquinho onde nada mais seremos que noivos órfãos. Quero que este braço teso não arraste mais uma imagem querida.

I explained my magical sophisms with hallucinations of words! I ended up believing my spiritual disorder sacred. I was lazy, proof of my fever: I envied the happiness of animals—caterpillars, symbolic of the innocence of limbo; moles, virginity's sleep! I grew bitter. I said farewell to the world in a ballad.