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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
Soul
Without
Enchants
Lore
Felicity
Castles
Flaws
Seasons
Known

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I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.
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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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Misfortune was my god.
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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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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
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Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
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Je est un autre. (I is someone else).
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea
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I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.
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No one's serious at seventeen.
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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
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