A thousand Dreams within me softly burn
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.
True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.
Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
I don't love women. Love has to be reinvented, we know that. The only thing women can ultimately imagine is security. Once they get that, love, beauty, everything else goes out the window. All they have left is cold disdain; that's what marriages live on nowadays. Sometimes I see women who ought to be happy, with whom I could have found companionship, already swallowed up by brutes with as much feeling as an old log.
Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
I went out under the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal.
On the blue summer evenings, I will go along the paths, And walk over the short grass, as I am pricked by the wheat: Daydreaming I will feel the coolness on my feet. I will let the wind bathe my bare head. I will not speak, I will have no thoughts: But infinite love will mount in my soul; And I will go far, far off, like a gypsy, through the countryside - as happy as if I were a woman. "Sensation
I'm now making myself as scummy as I can. Why? I want to be a poet, and I'm working at turning myself into a seer. You won't understand any of this, and I'm almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses. It involves enormous suffering, but one must be strong and be a born poet. It's really not my fault.
Je est un autre. (I is someone else).
Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.
Love...no such thing. Whatever it is that binds families and married couples together, that's not love. That's stupidity or selfishness or fear. Love doesn't exist. Self interest exists, attachment based on personal gain exists, complacency exists. But not love. Love has to be reinvented, that’s certain.
Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
The poet, therefore, is truly the thief of fire. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even; he will have to make sure his visions can be smelled, fondled, listened to; if what he brings back from beyond has form, he gives it form; if it has none, he gives it none. A language must be found…of the soul, for the soul and will include everything: perfumes, sounds colors, thought grappling with thought
I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea
What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: