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It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.

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
Voice
Shattered
Human
Infant
Humans
Breast
Breasts
Immense
Soft
Mad
Roaring
Sea
Seas

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Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
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Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
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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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O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
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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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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.
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. . . be absolute moderne.
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
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Je est un autre. (I is someone else).
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But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
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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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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.
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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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