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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
Love
Hearth
Life
Pours
Delighted
Burning
Affection
Sun
Earth
Heart

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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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What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
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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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Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno
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No one's serious at seventeen.
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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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What am I doing here?
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Je est un autre. (I is someone else).
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I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
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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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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: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
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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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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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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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Stronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
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Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
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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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The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
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