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And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful!
Charles Baudelaire
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Charles Baudelaire
Age: 46 †
Born: 1821
Born: April 9
Died: 1867
Died: August 30
Art Critic
Author
Essayist
Literary Critic
Poet
Translator
Writer
Paris
France
Baudelaire
Charles Pierre Baudelaire-Dufaÿs
Charles Pierre Baudelaire
Furiously
Shouted
Drunk
Madness
Beautiful
Make
Life
More quotes by Charles Baudelaire
It is unfortunately very true that, without leisure and money, love can be no more than an orgy of the common man. Instead of being a sudden impulse full of ardor and reverie, it becomes a distastefully utilitarian affair.
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One must work, if not from inclination, at least out of despair — since it proves, on close examination, that work is less boring than amusing oneself.
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If the poet has pursued a moral objective, he has diminished his poetic force.
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What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.
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A book is a garden, a party, a company by the way.
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The dandy should aspire to be uninterruptedly sublime. He should live and sleep in front of a mirror.
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An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion.
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I will drop into your chest like a vegetal ambrosia. I will be the grain that regenerates the cruelly plowed furrow. Poetry will be born of our intimate union. A god we shall create together, and we shall soar heavenward like sunbeams, perfumes, butterflies, birds, and all winged things.
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Delacroix was passionately in love with passion, but coldly determined to express passion as clearly as possible.
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In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.
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I am the vampire at my own veins.
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Man loves man so much that when he flees the city, it is still to seek the crowd, that is, to rebuild the city in the country.
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France at the dinner table in faraway places but here, among ourselves, in the family, let us face the facts: France is not poetic to tell the truth, she even feels a congenital horror of poetry. Among the writers who use verse, those whom she will always prefer are the most prosaic.
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Evil is committed without effort, naturally, fatally goodness is always the product of some art.
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The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance We find delight in the most loathsome things Some furtherance of Hell each new day brings, And yet we feel no horror in that rank advance.
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He who looks through an open window sees fewer things than he who looks through a closed window.
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Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue.
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Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul.
Charles Baudelaire
Amer savoir, celui qu'on tire du voyage! Bitter is the knowledge gained in travelling.
Charles Baudelaire
Unable to do away with love, the Church found a way to decontaminate it by creating marriage.
Charles Baudelaire