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Love is a taste for prostitution. In fact, there is no noble pleasure that cannot be reduced to Prostitution.
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
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Writer
Paris
France
Baudelaire
Charles Pierre Baudelaire-Dufaÿs
Charles Pierre Baudelaire
Pleasure
Fact
Facts
Cannot
Love
Prostitution
Reduced
Noble
Taste
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When a singer puts his hand on his heart, it means usually, I will always love you!
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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.
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Amer savoir, celui qu'on tire du voyage! Bitter is the knowledge gained in travelling.
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Being a useful man has always seemed to me to be something truly hideous.
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There is a certain cowardice, a certain weakness, rather, among respectable folk. Only brigands are convinced-of what? That they must succeed. And so they do succeed.
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The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself and others, as he wishes.
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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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Today I felt pass over me A breath of wind from the wings of madness.
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The vices of man, as full of horror as one might suppose them to be, contain the proof (if in nothing else but their infinitely expandable nature) of his taste for the infinite only, it is a taste that often takes a wrong turn.
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All the visible universe is nothing but a shop of images and signs.
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Je sais la douleur est la noblesse unique O u' ne mordront jamais la terre et les enfers. I know that pain is the one nobility upon which Hell itself cannot encroach.
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The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.
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As the end of the century approaches, all our culture is like flies at the beginning of winter. Having lost their agility, dreamy and demented, they turn slowly about the window in the first icy mists of morning, . . . [then] they fall down the curtains.
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If wine were to disappear from human production, I believe it would cause an absence, a failure in health and intellect, a void much more terrifying than all the recesses and the deviations for which wine is regarded as responsible.
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