Charles Pierre Baudelaire

Charles Pierre

French Poet, Art Critic

Author Quotes

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden that breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without ceasing. But what with? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk. And if, at some time, on the steps of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the bleak solitude of your room, you are waking up when drunkenness has already abated, ask the wind, the wave, a star, the clock, all that which flees, all that which groans, all that which rolls, all that which sings, all that which speaks, ask them what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will reply: 'It is time to get drunk! So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk; get drunk, and never pause for rest! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose!'

Relate comic things in pompous fashion. Irregularity, in other words the unexpected, the surprising, the astonishing, are essential to and characteristic of beauty. Two fundamental literary qualities: supernaturalism and irony. The blend of the grotesque and the tragic are attractive to the mind, as is discord to blas‚ ears. Imagine a canvas for a lyrical, magical farce, for a pantomime, and translate it into a serious novel. Drown the whole thing in an abnormal, dreamy atmosphere, in the atmosphere of great days? the region of pure poetry.

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead thuds of logs below falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.

The being who, for most men, is the source of the most lively, and even, be it said, to the shame of philosophical delights, the most lasting joys; the being towards or for whom all their efforts tend for whom and by whom fortunes are made and lost; for whom, but especially by whom, artists and poets compose their most delicate jewels; from whom flow the most enervating pleasures and the most enriching sufferings - woman, in a word, is not, for the artist in general... only the female of the human species. She is rather a divinity, a star.

The idea of beauty which man creates for himself imprints itself on his whole attire, crumples or stiffens his dress, rounds off or squares his gesture, and in the long run even ends by subtly penetrating the very features of his face. Man ends by looking like his ideal self. These engravings can be translated either into beauty or ugliness; in one direction, they become caricatures, in the other, antique statues.

The more a man cultivates the arts the less he fornicates. A more and more apparent cleavage occurs between the spirit and the brute.

The priest is an immense being because he makes the crowd believe astonishing things.

The true voyagers are those who go for the sake of traveling . . . and without quite knowing why, they say, 'Let us depart!?

There all is order and beauty, luxury, calm and voluptuousness.

There is no more steely barb than that of the Infinite.

Through the Unknown, we'll find the New.

To the very expensive to the very beautiful who fills my heart with light, to the angel, In the immortal idol, high in immortality! It spreads in my life as an air impregnated with salt, and my soul unsatisfied verse taste of the eternal. Always fresh sachet that perfumes the atmosphere of an expensive reduced censer forgotten who smokes in secret through the night, how, incorruptible love, I express you true? Musk grain which is, invisible, the depths of my eternity! In very good, the beautiful who is my joy and my health, to the angel, to the immortal idol, Hi in immortality!

Indeed, dear, do you trouble me without rate and compassion; it would seem, to hear you sigh, undergoing more than gleaners and beggars that are collecting old crusts of bread at the doors of the taverns. If your sighs expressed remorse even, some would honor you; but do not translate but satiety welfare and burden the break. And besides, you do not cease to speak useless words: Love me! I need it both! Console me here, touch me by there! Look: I will try to cure you; perhaps two incomes find the way, in the middle of a party and not go very far. Contemplate well, I beg you , this solid iron cage behind which is agitated, howling like a condemned man , shaking the bars like an orangutan exasperated by exile, imitating to perfection and circular tiger, and stupid sways white bear, hirsute monster whose shape mimics vaguely yours. That monster is an animal from those they are often called angel mine! A woman. The one monster, screaming loudly, with a stick in hand, is her husband. He has chained his legitimate wife like an animal, and he is teaching by the slums, the fair days, licensed judges; missing no more. Look you well! See how not simulated - truth - destroys live rabbits and volatile garish, his mahout throws him. Go esters says, do not eat it all in one day; and following the wise words cruelly snatches the prey, leaving a moment lit the skein of waste to the teeth of the ferocious beast, mean woman.

It is the greatest art of the devil to convince us he does not exist.

Keep your dreams, sages have not as beautiful as fools.

Love is a taste for prostitution. In fact, there is no noble pleasure that cannot be reduced to Prostitution.

Nations, like families, have great men only in spite of themselves. They do everything in their power not to have any. And therefore, the great man, in order to exist, must possess a force of attack which is greater than the force of resistance developed by millions of people.

Oh foul magnificence, sublime disgrace.

Only when we drink poison are we well.

Remembering is only a new form of suffering.

Souvenirs? More than if I had lived a thousand years!

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 idea that man is the fine print in all its adjustment, crumples or stiffens his coat, rounds or aligns his gesture, and even enters subtly, over time, the features of his face. The man ends up looking like it wants to be.

The more a man cultivates the arts, the less randy he becomes.

The priest is immense because I believe in others makes a heap of weird things. The Church wanting to do everything and be everything: it is a law of human spirit. Peoples adore authority. Priests are the servants and followers of imagination. The throne and the altar revolutionary maxim.

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Charles Pierre
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French Poet, Art Critic