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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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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
Burning
Affection
Sun
Earth
Heart
Love
Hearth
Life
Pours
Delighted
More quotes by Arthur Rimbaud
I'm intact, and I don't give a damn.
Arthur Rimbaud
I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
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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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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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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn
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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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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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Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
Arthur Rimbaud
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
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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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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.
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Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
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. . . be absolute moderne.
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I wrote silences nights I recorded the unnameable.
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Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea
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Morality is the weakness of the mind.
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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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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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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
Arthur Rimbaud
