I shed more tears than God could ever have required.
The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.
Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.
The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences.
Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
...as for me, I am intact; and I don't care.
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.
Morality is the weakness of the mind.
I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.
Eternity is the sun mixed with the sea
Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.
...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!
I could never throw Love out of the window.
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.
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.
My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
True life is elsewhere
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