But a dandy can never be a vulgar man
It is from the womb of art that criticism was born.
the Devil's hand directs our every move - / the things we loathed become the things we love
Who among us has not, in moments of ambition, dreamt of the miracle of a form of poetic prose, musical but without rhythm and rhyme, both supple and staccato enough to adapt itself to the lyrical movements of our souls, the undulating movements of our reveries, and the convulsive movements of our consciences? This obsessive ideal springs above all from frequent contact with enormous cities, from the junction of their innumerable connections.
I throw fresh seeds out. Who knows what survives?
Amer savoir, celui qu'on tire du voyage! Bitter is the knowledge gained in travelling.
Being a useful man has always seemed to me to be something truly hideous.
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.
What men call love is a very small, restricted, feeble thing compared with this ineffable orgy, this divine prostitution of the soul giving itself entire, all its poetry and all its charity, to the unexpected as it comes along, to the stranger as he passes.
That in all times, mediocrity has dominated, that is indubitable; but that it reigns more than ever, that it is becoming absolutely triumphant and inhibiting, this is what is as true as it is distressing.
What a mysterious faculty is that queen of the faculties!
Hypocrite reader my fellow my brother!
Genius is nothing more or less than childhood recovered by will, a childhood how equipped for self-expression with an adult's capacities.
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.
La volupte unique et supre" me de l'amour g|"t dans la certitude de faire le mal. The unique, supreme pleasure of love consists in the certainty of doing evil.
Delacroix was passionately in love with passion, but coldly determined to express passion as clearly as possible.
I lived for a long time under vast porticos That maritime suns tinted with a thousand fires, And whose great pillars, straight and majestuous In the evening made seem like basaltic caves.
Unable to do away with love, the Church found a way to decontaminate it by creating marriage.
Alas! Man's vices, horrible as they are supposed to be, contain the positive proof of his taste for the infinite.
Two fundamental literary qualities: supernaturalism and irony.
We all have the republican spirit in our veins, like syphilis in our bones. We are democratized and venerealized.
And over your unconsecrated head you'll hear the howling wolves lament their fate and yours the livelong year.
...an industry which can furnish results identical to nature must be the absolute in art.
To glorify the cult of images (my great, my only, my earliest passion).
You walk on corpses, beauty, undismayed.
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