What is love? The need of coming out of one's self.
All forms of beauty, like all possible phenomena, contain an element of the eternal and an element of the transitory - of the absolute and of the particular. Absolute and eternal beauty does not exist, or rather it is only an abstraction creamed from the general surface of different beauties. The particular element in each manifestation comes from the emotions: and just as we have our own particular emotions, so we have our own beauty.
Let us beware of common folk, of common sense, of sentiment, of inspiration, and of the obvious.
All the visible universe is nothing but a shop of images and signs.
There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence is immensely heightened.
Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subject, nor exact truth, but in the way of feeling.
We are all born marked for evil.
I will drop into your chest like a vegetal ambrosia. I will be the grain that regenerates the cruelly plowed furrow. Poetry will be born of our intimate union. A god we shall create together, and we shall soar heavenward like sunbeams, perfumes, butterflies, birds, and all winged things.
The People adore authority.
The world progresses only through misunderstanding.
Perfumes, colours and sounds echo one another.
The more a man cultivates the arts the less he fornicates. A more and more apparent cleavage occurs between the spirit and the brute.
It is easy to understand why the rabble dislike cats. A cat is beautiful; it suggests ideas of luxury, cleanliness, voluptuous pleasures.
The cannon thunders... limbs fly in all directions... one can hear the groans of victims and the howling of those performing the sacrifice... it's Humanity in search of happiness.
The taste for pleasure attaches us to the present. The concern with our salvation leaves us hanging on the future.
Strangeness is the indispensable condiment of all beauty.
Art is an infinitely precious good, a draught both refreshing and cheering which restores the stomach and the mind to the natural equilibrium of the ideal.
A sweetheart is a bottle of wine, a wife is a wine bottle.
Everything that is beautiful and noble is the product of reason and calculation.
I have cultivated my hysteria with pleasure and terror.
Discover day to day excitement.
Genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will, childhood equipped now with man's physical means to express itself, and with the analytical mind that enables it to bring order into the sum of experience, involuntarily amassed.
In putting off what one has to do, one runs the risk of never being able to do it.
That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal; from which it follows that irregularity – that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment, are a essential part and characteristic of beauty.
The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself and others, as he wishes.
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