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In this horror of solitude, this need to lose his ego in exterior flesh, which man calls grandly the need for love.
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
Horror
Poetry
Lose
Grandly
Loses
Exterior
Need
Calls
Needs
Ego
Men
Solitude
Love
Flesh
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Progress, this great heresy of decay.
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In art, there is one thing which does not receive sufficient attention. The element which is left to the human will is not nearly so large as people think.
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There are in every man, always, two simultaneous allegiances, one to God, the other to Satan. Invocation of God, or Spirituality, is a desire to climb higher that of Satan, or animality, is delight in descent.
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Passion I hate, and spirit does me wrong. Let us love gently.
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Remembering is only a new form of suffering.
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There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise a man by giving him more than he hopes for.
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Pure draughtsmen are philosophers and dialecticians. Colourists are epic poets.
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A friend of mine, the most innocuous dreamer who ever lived, once set a forest on fire to see, as he said, if it would catch as easily as people said. The first ten times the experiment was a failure but on the eleventh it succeeded all too well.
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Through the Unknown, we'll find the New
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I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.
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To glorify the cult of images (my great, my only, my earliest passion).
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How bittersweet it is, on winter's night, To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire, As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light, Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
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A silent mouth is sweet to hear.
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If the word doesn't exist, invent it but first be sure it doesn't exist.
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Ah! Seigneur! donnez-moi la force et le courage De contempler mon coeur et mon corps sans de go u t. Lord! give me the strength and the courage To see my heart and my body without disgust.
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The act of love strongly resembles torture or surgery.
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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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The beautiful is always bizarre.
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Even if it were proven that God didn't exist, Religion would still be Saintly and Divine.
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