Quote

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?

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
Blood
Attacked
Shall
Hire
Break
Adore
Lying
Beast
Heart
Image
Hearts
Lies
Uphold
Holy
Tread

More quotes by 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.
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Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
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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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Misfortune was my god.
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-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.
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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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The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses
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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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The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea
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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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I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.
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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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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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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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I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
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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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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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But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
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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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