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O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.

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
Without
Enchants
Lore
Felicity
Castles
Flaws
Seasons
Known
Soul

More quotes by Arthur Rimbaud

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And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.
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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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I wrote silences nights I recorded the unnameable.
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Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!
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. . . be absolute moderne.
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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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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea
Arthur Rimbaud
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Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
Arthur Rimbaud
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Misfortune was my god.
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Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
Arthur Rimbaud
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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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Je est un autre. (I is someone else).
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The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
Arthur Rimbaud
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The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
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It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn
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What am I doing here?
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I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent
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No one's serious at seventeen.
Arthur Rimbaud
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Love...no such thing. Whatever it is that binds families and married couples together, that's not love. That's stupidity or selfishness or fear. Love doesn't exist. Self interest exists, attachment based on personal gain exists, complacency exists. But not love. Love has to be reinvented, that’s certain.
Arthur Rimbaud