Quote

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.

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
Goes
Devouring
Stars
Drowned
Churned
Dream
Dreaming
Entranced
Sometimes
Milk
Pallid
Men
Poem
Flotsam
Time
Star
Infused
Sea
Bathed
Green
Azure

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In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
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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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No one's serious at seventeen.
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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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Idle youth, enslaved to everything by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
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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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I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
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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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I wrote silences nights I recorded the unnameable.
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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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It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense,/ That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.
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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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It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
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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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One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
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Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
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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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Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
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