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The Poet Enjoys The Incomparable Privilege Of Being Able To Be Himself And Others, As He Wishes.
-Charles Baudelaire
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The Poet Enjoys The

Charles Baudelaire
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The Poet Enjoys The Incomparable Privilege Of Being Able To Be Himself And Others, As He Wishes.

Understanding the Quote: "the poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself..."

This quote by Charles Baudelaire reflects deeply on the theme of wish. It connects to the universal human journey of purpose, motivation, and reflection. Often categorized under Wish, Able, Privilege, the quote offers insight, emotional clarity, and intellectual inspiration to readers worldwide.

Whether you’re a student exploring new ideas, a leader trying to motivate your team, or someone seeking direction in life — this quote provides value. It resonates because it’s more than words — it’s a bridge between experience and wisdom. It shows how Charles Baudelaire interprets life's core challenges and triumphs.

Lessons From the Quote

This quote teaches resilience and focus. It reminds readers that no matter where they stand in life, reflection and self-awareness lead to growth. Each word has meaning, and when studied, it becomes clear how impactful thoughtful language can be.

About Charles Baudelaire

Charles Baudelaire is celebrated for insightful thoughts on wish and able. Their legacy lives on through writings that guide, comfort, and inspire. Discover more on their profile page.

Actionable Takeaways

  • Reflect on how this quote applies to your current life path.
  • Share the message with someone who needs inspiration.
  • Write your thoughts on this quote in a journal or blog post.
  • Use it as a daily affirmation or reminder.

Closing Thoughts

Quotes like this endure because they capture universal truths. They comfort us in solitude and empower us in groups. Carry this quote forward — live by its wisdom, share its message, and keep its essence alive.

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Topic
Wish
Able
Privilege
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Inspiration Comes Of Working Every Day.
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In Putting Off What One Has To Do, One Runs The Risk Of Never Being Able To Do It.
Running
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In The Domain Of Painting And Statuary, The Present-day Credo Of The Worldly Wise, Especially In France, Is This: ... I Believe That Art Is, And Can Only Be, The Exact Reproduction Of Nature... An Avenging God Has Heard The Prayers Of This Multitude; Daguerre Was His Messiah.
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In Our Corruption We Perceive Beauties Unrevealed To Ancient Times.
Ancient
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We Are Weighed Down, Every Moment, By The Conception And The Sensation Of Time. And There Are But Two Means Of Escaping And Forgetting This Nightmare: Pleasure And Work. Pleasure Consumes Us. Work Strengthens Us. Let Us Choose.
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Blessed Art Thou, Lord, Who Giveth Suffering As A Divine Remedy For Our Impurities.
Art
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Suffering
There Exist Certain Individuals Who Are, By Nature, Given Purely To Contemplation And Are Utterly Unsuited To Action, And Who, Nevertheless, Under A Mysterious And Unknown Impulse, Sometimes Act With A Speed Which They Themselves Would Have Thought Beyond Them.
Nature
Action
Mysterious
I Sit In The Sky Like A Sphinx Misunderstood; My Heart Of Snow Is Wed To The Whiteness Of Swans; I Hate The Movement That Displaces The Rigid Lines, With Lips Untaught Neither Tears Nor Laughter Do I Know.
Laughter
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Poetry Has No Goal Other Than Itself; It Can Have No Other, And No Poem Will Be So Great, So Noble, So Truly Worthy Of The Name Of Poem, Than One Written Uniquely For The Pleasure Of Writing A Poem.
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Progress, This Great Heresy Of Decay.
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Love Is A Taste For Prostitution. In Fact, There Is No Noble Pleasure That Cannot Be Reduced To Prostitution.
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I Love Wagner, But The Music I Prefer Is That Of A Cat Hung Up By Its Tail Outside A Window And Trying To Stick To The Panes Of Glass With Its Claws.
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If Photography Is Allowed To Supplement Art In Some Of Its Functions, It Will Soon Have Supplanted Or Corrupted It Altogether, Thanks To The Stupidity Of The Multitude Which Is Its Natural Ally.
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Man Loves Man So Much That When He Flees The City, It Is Still To Seek The Crowd, That Is, To Rebuild The City In The Country.
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Genius Is Nothing More Or Less Than Childhood Recovered By Will, A Childhood How Equipped For Self-expression With An Adult's Capacities.
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Doubt, Or The Absence Of Faith And Naivete, Is A Vice Peculiar To This Age, For No One Is Obedient Nowadays; And Naivete, Which Means The Dominance Of Temperament In The Manner, Is A Gift From God, Possessed By Very Few.
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Those Men Get Along Best With Women Who Can Get Along Best Without Them.
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Alas! Man's Vices, Horrible As They Are Supposed To Be, Contain The Positive Proof Of His Taste For The Infinite.
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Pure Draughtsmen Are Philosophers And Dialecticians. Colourists Are Epic Poets.
Epic
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Do You Remember The Sight We Saw, My Soul, That Soft Summer Morning Round A Turning In The Path, The Disgusting Carcass On A Bed Scattered With Stones, Its Legs In The Air Like A Woman In Need Burning Its Wedding Poisons Like A Fountain With Its Rhythmic Sobs, I Could Hear It Clearly Flowing With A Long Murmuring Sound, But I Touch My Body In Vain To Find The Wound. I Am The Vampire Of My Own Heart, One Of The Great Outcasts Condemned To Eternal Laughter Who Can No Longer Smile. Am I Dead? I Must Be Dead.
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Immediate Work, Even Poor, Is Worth More Than Dreams.
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Today I Had A Strange Warning. I Felt The Wind Of Insanity Brush My Mind.
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All Fashions Are Charming, Or Rather Relatively Charming, Each One Being A New Striving, More Or Less Well Conceived, After Beauty, An Approximate Statement Of An Ideal, The Desire For Which Constantly Teases The Unsatisfied Human Mind.
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La Volupte Unique Et Supre" Me De L'amour G|"t Dans La Certitude De Faire Le Mal. The Unique, Supreme Pleasure Of Love Consists In The Certainty Of Doing Evil.
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A Silent Mouth Is Sweet To Hear.
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L'imagination Est La Reine Du Vrai, Et Le Possible Est Une Des Provinces Du Vrai. Imagination Is The Queen Of The Truth And The Possible Is One Of The Provinces Of The Truth.
Queens
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Laments Of An Icarus The Paramours Of Courtesans Are Well And Satisfied, Content. But As For Me My Limbs Are Rent Because I Clasped The Clouds As Mine. I Owe It To The Peerless Stars Which Flame In The Remotest Sky That I See Only With Spent Eyes Remembered Suns I Knew Before. In Vain I Had At Heart To Find The Center And The End Of Space. Beneath Some Burning, Unknown Gaze I Feel My Very Wings Unpinned And, Burned Because I Beauty Loved, I Shall Not Know The Highest Bliss, And Give My Name To The Abyss Which Waits To Claim Me As Its Own.
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I Love To Watch The Fine Mist Of The Night Come On, The Windows And The Stars Illumined, One By One, The Rivers Of Dark Smoke Pour Upward Lazily, And The Moon Rise And Turn Them Silver. I Shall See The Springs, The Summers, And The Autumns Slowly Pass; And When Old Winter Puts His Blank Face To The Glass, I Shall Close All My Shutters, Pull The Curtains Tight, And Build Me Stately Palaces By Candlelight.
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A Man Who From The Beginning Has Long Been Soaked In The Languid Atmosphere Of A Woman, The Scent Of Her Hands, Her Bosom, Her Knees, Her Hair, Her Lithe And Flowing Clothes, Sweet Bath, Suavely Scented With Ointments, Has Acquired A Delicacy Of Skin, A Refinement Of Tone, A Kind Of Androgyny Without Which The Toughest And Most Virile Of Geniuses Remains, When It Comes To Artistic Perfection, An Incomplete Being.
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An Artist Is An Artist Only Because Of His Exquisite Sense Of Beauty, A Sense Which Shows Him Intoxicating Pleasures, But Which At The Same Time Implies And Contains An Equally Exquisite Sense Of All Deformities And All Disproportion.
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What Is Exhilarating In Bad Taste Is The Aristocratic Pleasure Of Giving Offense.
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To Handle A Language Skillfully Is To Practice A Kind Of Evocative Sorcery.
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Let Us Beware Of Common Folk, Of Common Sense, Of Sentiment, Of Inspiration, And Of The Obvious.
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From His Soft Fur, Golden And Brown, Goes Out So Sweet A Scent, One Night I Might Have Been Embalmed In It By Giving Him One Little Pet. He Is My Household's Guardian Soul; He Judges, He Presides, Inspires All Matters In His Royal Realm; Might He Be Fairy? Or A God? When My Eyes, To This Cat I Love Drawn As By A Magnet's Force, Turn Tamely Back Upon That Appeal, And When I Look Within Myself, I Notice With Astonishment The Fire Of His Opal Eyes, Clear Beacons Glowing, Living Jewels, Taking My Measure, Steadily.
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Love Is The Natural Occupation Of The Man Of Leisure.
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I Have More Memories Than If I Were A Thousand Years Old.
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It's The Devil Who Pulls The Strings That Make Us Dance
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He Possessed The Logic Of All Good Intentions And A Knowledge Of All The Tricks Of His Trade, And Yet He Never Succeeded At Anything, Because He Believed Too Much In The Impossible. Surprising? Why So? He Was Forever In The Act Of Conceiving It!
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To The Solemn Graves, Near A Lonely Cemetery, My Heart Like A Muffled Drum Is Beating Funeral Marches.
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What Is Love? The Need Of Coming Out Of One's Self.
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In Philosophical Inquiry, The Human Spirit, Imitating The Movement Of The Stars, Must Follow A Curve Which Brings It Back To Its Point Of Departure. To Conclude Is To Close A Circle.
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In My Mind It Strolls, As Well As In My Apartment. A Cat, Strong, Sweet And Delightful.
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Beauty Is The Sole Ambition, The Exclusive Goal Of Taste.
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Even If It Were Proven That God Didn't Exist, Religion Would Still Be Saintly And Divine.
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Torture, As The Art Of Discovering The Truth, Is Barbaric Nonsense; It Is The Application Of A Material Means To A Spiritual End.
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Everything That Gives Pleasure Has Its Reason. To Scorn The Mobs Of Those Who Go Astray Is Not The Means To Bring Them Around.
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Remembering Is Only A New Form Of Suffering.
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Always Be A Poet, Even In Prose.
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Poetry And Progress Are Like Two Ambitious Men Who Hate One Another With An Instinctive Hatred, And When They Meet Upon The Same Road, One Of Them Has To Give Place.
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I Lived For A Long Time Under Vast Porticos That Maritime Suns Tinted With A Thousand Fires, And Whose Great Pillars, Straight And Majestuous In The Evening Made Seem Like Basaltic Caves.
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Above My Cradle Loomed The Bookcase Where/ Latin Ashes And The Dust Of Greece/ Mingled With Novels, History, And Verse/ In One Dark Babel. I Was Folio-high/ When I First Heard The Voices.
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...and The Lamp Having At Last Resigned Itself To Death. There Was Nothing Now But Firelight In The Room, And Every Time A Flame Uttered A Gasp For Breath It Flushed Her Amber Skin With The Blood Of Its Bloom.
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Blood
Skins
The Son Will Run Away From The Family Not At Eighteen But At Twelve, Emancipated By His Gluttonous Precocity; He Will Fly Not To Seek Heroic Adventures, Not To Deliver A Beautiful Prisoner From A Tower, Not To Immortalize A Garret With Sublime Thoughts, But To Found A Business, To Enrich Himself And To Compete With His Infamous Papa.
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The More One Works, The Better One Works, And The More One Wants To Work. The More One Produces, The More Fertile One Grows.
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The Idea Which Man Forms Of Beauty Imprints Itself Throughout His Attire, Rumples Or Stiffens His Garments, Rounds Off Or Aligns His Gestures, And, Finally, Even Subtly Penetrates The Features Of His Face.
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I Love The Clouds... The Clouds That Pass By... Over There... Over There... Those Lovely Clouds!
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How Many Years Of Fatigue And Punishment It Takes To Learn The Simple Truth That Work, That Disagreeable Thing, Is The Only Way Of Not Suffering In Life, Or At All Events, Of Suffering Less.
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To Be Away From Home And Yet To Feel Oneself Everywhere At Home; To See The World, To Be At The Centre Of The World, And Yet To Remain Hidden From The World—impartial Natures Which The Tongue Can But Clumsily Define. The Spectator Is A Prince Who Everywhere Rejoices In His Incognito.
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Tongue
Where One Should See Only What Is Beautiful, Our Public Looks Only For What Is True.
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There Exist Only Three Beings Worthy Of Respect: The Priest, The Soldier, The Poet. To Know, To Kill, To Create.
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And Over Your Unconsecrated Head You'll Hear The Howling Wolves Lament Their Fate And Yours The Livelong Year.
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It Is Time To Get Drunk! So As Not To Be The Martyred Slaves Of Time, Get Drunk; Get Drunk Without Stopping! On Wine, On Poetry, Or On Virtue, As You Wish.
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Today I Felt Pass Over Me A Breath Of Wind From The Wings Of Madness.
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My Dear Brothers, Never Forget, When You Hear The Progress Of Enlightenment Vaunted, That The Devil's Best Trick Is To Persuade You That He Doesn't Exist!
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Tell Me, Enigmatical Man, Whom Do You Love Best, Your Father, Your Mother, Your Sister, Or Your Brother? I Have Neither Father, Nor Mother, Nor Sister, Nor Brother. Your Friends? Now You Use A Word Whose Meaning I Have Never Known. Your Country? I Do Not Know In What Latitude It Lies. Beauty? I Could Indeed Love Her, Goddess And Immortal. Gold? I Hate It As You Hate God. Then, What Do You Love, Extraordinary Stranger? I Love The Clouds The Clouds That Pass Up There Up There The Wonderful Clouds!
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Life Has But One True Charm: The Charm Of The Game. But What If We’re Indifferent To Whether We Win Or Lose?
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Always Be Drunk ... Get Drunk Militantly. Just Get Drunk.
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The Devil's Hand Directs Our Every Move - / The Things We Loathed Become The Things We Love
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A Multitude Of Small Delights Constitute Happiness
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Multitudes
So As Not To Feel The Horrible Burden Of Time That Breaks Your Back And Bends You To The Earth, Be Endlessly Drunk.
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Earth
Break
...an Industry Which Can Furnish Results Identical To Nature Must Be The Absolute In Art.
Art
Results
Identical
Nature... Is Nothing But The Inner Voice Of Self-interest.
Nature
Self
Voice
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Lying
Unique
Men
Nothing In A Portrait Is A Matter Of Indifference. Gesture, Grimace, Clothing, Decor Even - All Must Combine To Realize A Character.
Character
Portraits
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It Is One Of The Prodigious Privileges Of Art That The Horrific, Artistically Expressed, Becomes Beauty, And That Sorrow, Given Rhythm And Cadence, Fills The Spirit With A Calm Joy.
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Art
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A Sweetheart Is A Bottle Of Wine, A Wife Is A Wine Bottle.
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The Will To Work Must Dominate, For Art Is Long And Time Is Brief.
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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.
Stars
Women
Philosophical
What A Mysterious Faculty Is That Queen Of The Faculties!
Queens
Imagination
Mysterious
I Have Cultivated My Hysteria With Pleasure And Terror.
Hysteria
Pleasure
Terror
Every Healthy Man Can Do Without Food For Two Days — But Without Poetry, Never!
Food
Men
Two
There Are Women Who Inspire You With The Desire To Conquer Them And To Take Your Pleasure Of Them; But This One Fills You Only With The Desire To Die Slowly Beneath Her Gaze.
Inspire
Desire
Conquer
Being A Useful Man Has Always Seemed To Me To Be Something Truly Hideous.
Men
Hideous
Idleness
A Friend Of Mine, The Most Innocuous Dreamer Who Ever Lived, Once Set A Forest On Fire To See, As He Said, If It Would Catch As Easily As People Said. The First Ten Times The Experiment Was A Failure; But On The Eleventh It Succeeded All Too Well.
Fire
People
Dreamer
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 Blasé 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.
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Two
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La, Tout N’est Qu’ordre Et Beauté Luxe, Calme Et Volupté There, There Is Nothing Else But Grace And Measure, Richness, Quietness, And Pleasure.
Grace
Pleasure
Richness
The Priest Is An Immense Being Because He Makes The Crowd Believe Astonishing Things.
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Literature
Crowds
Strangeness Is The Indispensable Condiment Of All Beauty.
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Condiments
Strangeness
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.
Butterfly
Bird
Together
Whether You Come From Heaven Or Hell, What Does It Matter, O Beauty!
Heaven
Doe
Matter
The Dance Can Reveal Everything Mysterious That Is Hidden In Music, And It Has The Additional Merit Of Being Human And Palpable. Dancing Is Poetry With Arms And Legs.
Inspirational
Dance
Dancing
There Is A Word, In A Verb, Something Sacred Which Forbids Us From Using It Recklessly. To Handle A Language Cunningly Is To Practice A Kind Of Evocative Sorcery.
Practice
Sorcery
Verbs
I Have To Confess That I Had Gambled On My Soul And Lost It With Heroic Insouciance And Lightness Of Touch. The Soul Is So Impalpable, So Often Useless, And Sometimes Such A Nuisance, That I Felt No More Emotion On Losing It Than If, On A Stroll, I Had Mislaid My Visiting Card.
Gambling
Soul
Nuisance
What Is Irritating About Love Is That It Is A Crime That Requires An Accomplice.
Best Love
Love Is
Crime
I Think I Would Be Happy In That Place I Happen Not To Be, And This Question Of Moving House Is The Subject Of A Perpetual Dialogue I Have With My Soul.
Moving
Thinking
House
I Consider It Useless And Tedious To Represent What Exists, Because Nothing That Exists Satisfies Me. Nature Is Ugly, And I Prefer The Monsters Of My Fancy To What Is Positively Trivial.
Beauty
Monsters
Useless
There Can Be No Progress-real, Moral Prgress-except In The Individual And By The Individual Himself.
Art
Philosophy
Real
Everything For Me Becomes Allegory
Allegory
It Is Regrettable That, Among The Rights Of Man, The Right Of Contradicting Oneself Has Been Forgotten.
Regret
Men
Rights
Nature Is A Word, An Allegory, A Mold, An Embossing, If You Will.
Mold
Allegory
Ifs
Quand Me" Me Dieu N'existerait Pas, La Religion Serait Encore Sainte Et Divinedieu Est Le Seul E" Tre Qui, Pour Re Gner, N'ait Me" Me Pas Besoin D'exister. Even If God Did Not Exist, Religion Would Still Be Holyand Divine.god Isthe Only Being Who, Inorder Toreign, Need Not Even Exist.
Needs
Divine
Stills
The More Delicate And Ambitious The Soul, The Further Do Dreams Estrange It From Possible Things.
Dream
Soul
Ambitious
Il Faut Travailler Sinon Par Go U" T, Au Moins Par De Sespoir, Puisque, Tout Bien Ve Rifie , Travailler Est Moins Ennuyeux Que S'amuser. We Should Work: If Not By Preference, At Least Out Of Despair. All Things Considered, Work Is Less Boring Than Amusement.
Despair
Amusement
Boring
If A Given Combination Of Trees, Mountains, Water, And Houses, Say A Landscape, Is Beautiful, It Is Not So By Itself, But Because Of Me, Of My Favor, Of The Idea Or Feeling I Attach To It.
Beautiful
Ideas
Water
Music Fathoms The Sky.
Sky
Fathom
And, Drunk With My Own Madness, I Shouted At Him Furiously, "make Life Beautiful! Make Life Beautiful!
Beautiful
Drunk
Madness
Ne Cherchez Plus Mon Coeur; Les Be" Tes L'ont Mange . Don't Search Any Further For My Heart; Wild Beasts Ate It.
Heart
Beast
Plus
Romanticism Is Precisely Situated Neither In Choice Of Subject, Nor Exact Truth, But In The Way Of Feeling.
Choices
Feelings
Way
God Is The Only Being Who, In Order To Reign, Doesn't Even Need To Exist.
God
Order
Needs
What Do I Care If You Are Good? Be Beautiful! And Be Sad!
Beautiful
Care
I Care
However Incoherent A Human Existence May Be, Human Unity Is Not Bothered By It.
Unity
May
Human Nature
Nature Is A Temple, Where The Living Columns Sometimes Breathe Confusing Speech; Man Walks Within These Groves Of Symbols, Each Of Which Regards Him As A Kindred Thing.
Men
Confusing
Speech
Go Then, A Starveling Girl With No Perfume Or Pearls, Only Your Nudity O My Beauty!
Girl
Pearls
Nudity
In Certain Almost Supernatural States Of The Soul, The Profundity Of Life Reveals Itself Entirely In The Spectacle, However Ordinary It May Be, Before One's Eyes. It Becomes Its Symbol.
Eye
Soul
Perception
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.
Mean
Men
Order
If Photography Is Allowed To Stand In For Art In Some Of Its Functions It Will Soon Supplant Or Corrupt It Completely Thanks To The Natural Support It Will Find In The Stupidity Of The Multitude. It Must Return To Its Real Task, Which Is To Be The Servant Of The Sciences And The Arts, But The Very Humble Servant, Like Printing And Shorthand Which Have Neither Created Nor Supplanted Literature.
Photography
Art
Real
It Is The Pleasure Of Astonishing Others, And The Proud Satisfaction Of Never Being Astonished By Them.
Proud
Satisfaction
Pleasure
Every Idea Is Endowed Of Itself With Immortal Life, Like A Human Being. All Created Form, Even That Which Is Created By Man, Is Immortal. For Form Is Independent Of Matter: Molecules Do Not Constitute Form.
Independent
Men
Ideas
It Would Be Difficult For Me Not To Conclude That The Most Perfect Type Of Masculine Beauty Is Satan, As Portrayed By Milton.
Perfect
Would Be
Satanic
Since Photography Gives Us Every Guarantee Of Exactitude That We Could Desire (they Really Believe That, The Mad Fools !), Then Photography And Art Are The Same Thing.
Photography
Art
Believe
Here Comes The Time When, Vibrating On Its Stem, Every Flower Fumes Like A Censer; Noises And Perfumes Circle In The Evening Air.
Time
Nature
Flower
Two Fundamental Literary Qualities: Supernaturalism And Irony.
Two
Quality
Fundamentals
To Be Just, That Is To Say, To Justify Its Existence, Criticism Should Be Partial, Passionate And Political, That Is To Say, Written From An Exclusive Point Of View, But A Point Of View That Opens Up The Widest Horizons.
Views
Political
Criticism
Theory Of The True Civilization. It Is Not To Be Found In Gas Or Steam Or Table Turning. It Consists In The Diminution Of The Traces Of Original Sin.
Civilization
Tables
Sin
Certes, Je Sortirai Quant A' Moi Satisfait D'un Monde O U' L'action N'est Pas La Soeur Du Re" Ve. Indeed, For My Part, I Shall Be Happy To Leave A World Where Action Is Not Sister To The Dream.
Dream
World
Action
The Devil's Finest Trick Is To Persuade You That He Does Not Exist.
Life
Devil
Doe
Evil Is Committed Without Effort, Naturally, Fatally; Goodness Is Always The Product Of Some Art.
Art
Evil
Effort
To Dream Magnificently Is Not A Gift Given To All Men, And Even For Those Who Possess It, It Runs A Strong Risk Of Being Progressively Diminished By The Ever-growing Dissipation Of Modern Life And By The Restlessness Engendered By Material Progress. The Ability To Dream Is A Divine And Mysterious Ability; Because It Is Through Dreams That Man Communicates With The Shadowy World Which Surrounds Him. But This Power Needs Solitude To Develop Freely; The More One Concentrates, The More One Is Likely To Dream Fully, Deeply.
Running
Dream
Strong
Eternal Superiority Of The Dandy. What Is The Dandy?
Eternal
Dandy
Superiority
J'ai Plus De Souvenirs Que Si J'avais Mille Ans. Ihavemorememoriesthanifiwereonethousandyearsold.
Souvenirs
Plus
In Order Not To Feel Time's Horrid Fardel Bruise Your Shoulders, Grinding You Into The Earth, Get Drunk And Stay That Way. On What? On Wine, Poetry, Virtue, Whatever. But Get Drunk!
Wine
Order
Drunk
What I Have Always Found Most Beautiful In The Theatre, In My Childhood, And Still Today, Is Lustre--a Beautiful Object, Luminous, Crystalline, Complex, Circular, Symmetrical. However, I Do Not Absolutely Deny The Value Of Dramatic Literature. Only, I Should Like The Actors To Be Mounted On High Pattens, To Wear Masks More Expressive Than The Human Face, And To Speak Through Megaphones.
Beautiful
Childhood
Theatre
The Life Of Our City Is Rich In Poetic And Marvelous Subjects. We Are Enveloped And Steeped As Though In An Atmosphere Of The Marvelous; But We Do Not Notice It.
Life
Cities
Atmosphere
Unable To Suppress Love, The Church Wanted At Least To Disinfect It, And It Created Marriage.
Church
Wanted
A Man Who Drinks Only Water Has A Secret To Hide From His Fellow Men.
Men
Water
Secret
The People Adore Authority.
People
Authority
Adore
A Child Sees Everything In A Sense Of Newness - He Is Always Drunk. Genius Is Nothing But Childhood Re-attained At Will.
Children
Drunk
Childhood
Quand Notre Coeur A Fait Une Fois Sa Vendange, Vivre Est Un Mal. Once Our Heart Has Been Harvested Once, Life Becomes Miserable.
Heart
Miserable
Has Beens
Nothing Can Be Done Except Little By Little.
Perseverance
Done
Literature
How Little Remains Of The Man I Once Was, Save The Memory Of Him! But Remembering Is Only A New Form Of Suffering.
Memories
Men
Suffering
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.
Men
Greatness
Order
There Is No Sweeter Pleasure Than To Surprise A Man By Giving Him More Than He Hopes For.
Men
Giving
Surprise
It Is Good Sometimes That The Happy Of This World Should Learn, Were It Only To Humble Their Foolish Pride For An Instant, That There Are Higher, Wider, And Rarer Joys Than Theirs.
Happiness
Humble
Pride
Thanks Be To God, Who Gives Us Sufferingas Sacred Remedy For All Our Sins,that Best And Purest Essence Which Preparesthe Strong In Spirit For Divine Delights!
Strong
Essence
Giving
Genius Is Childhood Recalled At Will.
Childhood
Genius
Everything That Is Beautiful And Noble Is The Product Of Reason And Calculation.
Beautiful
Math
Noble
The World Only Goes Round By Misunderstanding.
Understanding
World
Rounds
A Book Is A Garden, An Orchard, A Storehouse, A Party, A Company By The Way, A Counselor, A Multitude Of Counselors.
War
Party
Book
To Be A Great Man And A Saint To Oneself, That's The Only Important Thing.
Men
Important
Saint
Dancing Can Reveal All The Mystery That Music Conceals.
Dance
Ballet Class
Dancing
Amer Savoir, Celui Qu'on Tire Du Voyage! Bitter Is The Knowledge Gained In Travelling.
Voyages
Bitter
Tire
What Strange Phenomena We Find In A Great City, All We Need Do Is Stroll About With Our Eyes Open. Life Swarms With Innocent Monsters.
Eye
Cities
Monsters
Be Always Drunken. Nothing Else Matters: That Is The Only Question. If You Would Not Feel The Horrible Burden Of Time Weighing On Your Shoulders And Crushing You To The Earth, Be Drunken Continually.
Crush
Beer
Earth
Where Ever I Am Not Is The Place Where I Am Myself.
Evil Comes Up Softly Like A Flower.
Flower
Evil
Come Up
The Beautiful Is Always Bizarre.
Beautiful
Art
Creativity
For Each Letter Received From A Creditor, Write Fifty Lines On An Extraterrestrial Subject And You Will Be Saved.
Writing
Literature
Fifty
You Walk On Corpses, Beauty, Undismayed.
Walks
Corpses
A Study Of The Great Malady; Horror Of Home.
Home
Study
Horror
In Literature As In Ethics, There Is Danger, As Well As Glory, In Being Subtle. Aristocracy Isolates Us.
Aristocracy
Literature
Ethics
My Concern Today Is With The Painting Of Manners Of The Present. The Past Is Interesting Not Only By Reason Of The Beauty Which Could Be Distilled From It By Those Artists For Whom It Was The Present, But Also Precisely Because It Is The Past, For Its Historical Value. It Is The Same With The Present. The Pleasure Which We Derive From The Representation Of The Present Is Due Not Only To The Beauty With Which It Can Be Invested, But Also To Its Essential Quality Of Being Present
Artist
Past
Historical Value
When A Singer Puts His Hand On His Heart, It Means Usually, I Will Always Love You!
Love You
Heart
Mean
We Are All Born Marked For Evil.
Evil
Literature
Born
Woman Is Natural, That Is To Say, Abominable.
Nature
Women
Natural
It Is From The Womb Of Art That Criticism Was Born.
Art
Criticism
Born
Dance Can Reveal Everything Mysterious That Is Hidden In Music
Dancing
Merit
Mysterious
The Insatiable Thirst For Everything That Lies Beyond, And That Life Reveals, Is The Most Living Proof Of Our Immortality.
Lying
Immortality
Proof
If Wine Were To Disappear From Human Production, I Believe It Would Cause An Absence, A Failure In Health And Intellect, A Void Much More Terrifying Than All The Recesses And The Deviations For Which Wine Is Regarded As Responsible.
Believe
Wine
Void
Good Sense Tells Us That Earthly Things Are Rare And Fleeting, And That True Reality Exists Only In Dreams. To Draw Sustenance From Happiness- Natural Or Artificial - You Must First Have The Courage To Swallow It; And Those Who Perhaps Most Merit Happiness Are Precisely Those On Whom Felicity, As Mortals Conceive It, Always Acts As A Vomitive.
Dream
Reality
Fleeting
The Dandy Should Aspire To Be Uninterruptedly Sublime. He Should Live And Sleep In Front Of A Mirror.
Sleep
Mirrors
Sublime
I Am Bored In France Because Everyone Resembles Voltaire.
Bored
France
Conformity
Dancing Is Poetry With Arms And Legs.
Dance
Dancing
Ballet
An Oasis Of Horror In A Desert Of Boredom.
Oasis
Boredom
Desert
Through The Unknown, We'll Find The New
One Should Always Be Drunk. That's All That Matters...but With What? With Wine, With Poetry, Or With Virtue, As You Chose. But Get Drunk.
Drinking
Wine
Drunk
No Task Is A Long One But The Task On Which One Dare Not Start. It Becomes A Nightmare.
Procrastination
Long
Tasks
Comme L'imagination A Cre E Le Monde, Elle Le Gouverne. Because Imagination Created The World, It Governs It.
Imagination
World
The Artist Is Today And Has Been For Many Years, Despite His Absence Of Merit, Simply A Spoiled Child. So Many Honors, So Much Money Bestowed On Men Without Souls And Without Education.
Education
Art
Children
The Poet Is Like The Prince Of The Clouds, Who Haunts The Tempest And Laughs At The Archer. Exiled On The Ground In The Midst Of The Jeering Crowd, His Giant's Wings Keep Him From Walking.
Archer
Clouds
Wings
The Pleasure We Derive From The Representation Of The Present Is Due, Not Only To The Beauty It Can Be Clothed In, But Also To Its Essential Quality Of Being The Present.
Beauty
Time
Aquariums
One Must Work, If Not From Inclination, At Least Out Of Despair — Since It Proves, On Close Examination, That Work Is Less Boring Than Amusing Oneself.
Boredom
Boring
Amusing
For Me, Romanticism Is The Most Recent And The Most Current Expression Of Beauty.
Beauty
Expression
Currents
It Is At Once By Way Of Poetry And Through Poetry, As With Music, That The Soul Glimpses Splendors From Beyond The Tomb; And When An Exquisite Poem Brings One's Eyes To The Point Of Tears, Those Tears Are Not Evidence Of An Excess Of Joy, They Are Witness Far More To An Exacerbated Melancholy, A Disposition Of The Nerves, A Nature Exiled Among Imperfect Things, Which Would Like To Possess, Without Delay, A Paradise Revealed On This Very Same Earth.
Eye
Imperfect Things
Poetry
Unable To Do Away With Love, The Church Found A Way To Decontaminate It By Creating Marriage.
Love
Creating
Church
The Form Of A Town Changes More Swiftly Alas! Than The Heart Of A Mortal.
Heart
History
Towns
From Satan Or From God, What Matter? Angel Or Siren, What Matter, If You Make - Fairy With Velvet Eyes, Rhythm, Perfume, Light, O My Only Queen - The Universe Less Hideous, Each Moment Less Strained?
Queens
Eye
Angel
Etre Un Homme Utile M'a Paru Toujours Quelque Chose De Bien Hideux. To Be Useful Has Always Seemed To Me Quite Hideous.
Hideous
Who Would Dare Assign To Art The Sterile Function Of Imitating Nature?
Art
Literature
Imitating Others
A Precious Liquid, A Poison Dearer Than That Of The Borgias - Because It Is Made From Our Blood, Our Health, Our Sleep, And Two-thirds Of Our Love - We Must Be Stingy With It.
Hate
Sleep
Blood
He Who Looks Through An Open Window Sees Fewer Things Than He Who Looks Through A Closed Window.
Vision
Looks
Window
It Would Perhaps Be Nice To Be Alternately The Victim And The Executioner.
Nice
Being Nice
Victim
There Is No More Steely Barb Than That Of The Infinite.
Literature
Infinity
Infinite
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