“A frenzied passion for art is a canker that devours everything else.”
“There exist only three respectable beings:
the priest, the warrior, the poet.
To know, to kill, and to create.”
(Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic.)
“Any healthy man can go without food (fruit) for two days –
but not without poetry.”
I am as lovely as a dream in stone;
My breast on which each finds his death in turn
Inspires the poet with a love as lone
As everlasting clay, and as taciturn.
Swan-white of heart, as sphinx no mortal knows,
My throne is in the heaven’s azure deep;
I hate all movement that disturbs my pose;
I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
Before my monumental attitudes,
Taken from the proudest plastic arts,
My poets pray in austere studious moods,
For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies,
The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.
“If the poet has pursued a moral objective, he has diminished his poetic force.”
– Charles Baudelaire
Always be drunk.
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time’s horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
will answer you:
“Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!”
“Always be a poet, even in prose.”
“If the poet has pursued a moral objective,
he has diminished his poetic force.”