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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.

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
True
Unfortunately
Without
Impulse
Men
Affair
Orgy
Love
Instead
Ardor
Becomes
Utilitarian
Full
Reverie
Common
Leisure
Money
Sudden

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Our religion is itself profoundly sad - a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated in each man's own language - so long as he knows anguish and is a painter.
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Evil is done without effort, naturally, it's destiny good is always the product of skill.
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Strangeness is the indispensable condiment of all beauty.
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I have to confess that I had gambled on my soul and lost it with heroic insouciance and lightness of touch. The soul is so impalpable, so often useless, and sometimes such a nuisance, that I felt no more emotion on losing it than if, on a stroll, I had mislaid my visiting card.
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Let us beware of common folk, of common sense, of sentiment, of inspiration, and of the obvious.
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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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Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them has to give place.
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It would perhaps be nice to be alternately the victim and the executioner.
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It is good sometimes that the happy of this world should learn, were it only to humble their foolish pride for an instant, that there are higher, wider, and rarer joys than theirs.
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Alas, human vices, however horrible one might imagine them to be, contain the proof (were it only in their infinite expansion) of man's longing for the infinite but it is a longing that often takes the wrong route. It is my belief that the reason behind all culpable excesses lies in this depravation of the sense of the infinite.
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What I say is that the supreme and singular joy of making love resides in the certainty of doing evil.
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Ne cherchez plus mon coeur les be tes l'ont mange . Don't search any further for my heart wild beasts ate it.
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Nations, like families, have great men only in spite of themselves. They do everything in their power not to have any. And therefore, the great man, in order to exist, must possess a force of attack which is greater than the force of resistance developed by millions of people.
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I am the wound and the knife! I am the slap and the cheek! I am the limbs and the rack, And the victim and the executioner! I am the vampire of my own heart.
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An oasis of horror in a desert of boredom.
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You walk on corpses, beauty, undismayed.
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Nature is a temple, where the living Columns sometimes breathe confusing speech Man walks within these groves of symbols, each Of which regards him as a kindred thing.
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Always be drunk ... Get drunk militantly. Just get drunk.
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What do I care if you are good? Be beautiful! and be sad!
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Quand me me Dieu n'existerait pas, la religion serait encore sainte et divineDieu est le seul e tre qui, pour re gner, n'ait me me pas besoin d'exister. Even if God did not exist, religion would still be holyand divine.God isthe only being who, inorder toreign, need not even exist.
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