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

Arthur Rimbaud

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Arthur Rimbaud
Age: 37 †
Born: 1854
Born: October 20
Died: 1891
Died: November 10
Arms Trader
Explorer
Poet
World Traveler
Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud
Jean Nicholas Arthur Rimbaud
Stand
Unutterable
Words
Whirling
Inspirational
Silences
Night
Crusades
Stills
Nights
Still
Wrote
Made
Turned
World
Silence

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You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
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Faith assuages, guides, restores.
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Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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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.
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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To whom shall I hire myself out? What beast should I adore? What holy image is attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lies shall I uphold? In what blood tread?
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I invented the colors of the vowels!--A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green--I made rules for the form and movement of each consonant, and, and with instinctive rhythms, I flattered myself that I had created a poetic language accessible, some day, to all the senses.
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I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.
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The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses
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Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
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The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea
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O witches, O misery, O hate, to you has my treasure been entrusted! I contrived to purge my mind of all human hope. On all joy, to strangle it, I pounced with the strength of a wild beast. I called to the plagues to smother me in blood, in sand, misfortune was my God.
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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea
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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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Here I am on the shore of Brittany. Let the cities light up in the evening. My day is done. I am leaving Europe. The sea air will burn my lungs. Lost climates will tan me. I will swim, trample the grass, hung, and smoke especially. I will drink alcohol as strong as boiling metal--just as my dear ancestors did around their fires.
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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.
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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.
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