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Our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze on its trivial image on a scrap of metal.
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
Society
Narcissus
Men
Rushed
Scrap
Trivial
Gaze
Metal
Metals
Image
Squalid
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There is no more steely barb than that of the Infinite.
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There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.
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It would be difficult for me not to conclude that the most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as portrayed by Milton.
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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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The immense profundity of thought in vulgar locutions, like holes dug by generations of ants.
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The devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist.
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To the solemn graves, near a lonely cemetery, my heart like a muffled drum is beating funeral marches.
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The beautiful is always bizarre.
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To handle a language skillfully is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.
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To be just, that is to say, to justify its existence, criticism should be partial, passionate and political, that is to say, written from an exclusive point of view, but a point of view that opens up the widest horizons.
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Two fundamental literary qualities: supernaturalism and irony.
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What do I care if you are good? Be beautiful! and be sad!
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Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam, Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
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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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The world only goes round by misunderstanding.
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