Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
Weakness or strength: you exist, that is strength. You don't know where you are going or why you are going, go in everywhere, answer everyone. No one will kill you, any more than if you were a corpse.
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
...as for me, I am intact; and I don't care.
I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea
I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic. I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
What am I doing here?
You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.
Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
...You have to pass an exam, and the jobs that you get are either to shine shoes, or to herd cows, or to tend pigs. Thank God, I don't want any of that! Damn it! And besides that they smack you for a reward; they call you an animal and it's not true, a little kid, etc.. Oh! Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn!
He would say, "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away..." And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.
I could never throw Love out of the window.
Then you'll feel your cheek scratched... A little kiss, like a crazy spider, Will run round your neck... And you'll say to me : "Find it !" bending your head - And we'll take a long time to find that creature - Which travels a lot.
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
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