Charles Baudelaire

9 Apr 1821 // 31 Aug 1867
Poet / Critic / Translator


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All great poets become naturally, fatally, critics
There is in 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
An artist is only an artist thanks to his exquisite sense of beauty - a sense which provides him with intoxicating delights, but at the same time implying and including a sense, equally exquisite, of all deformity and disproportion
Progress, that great heresy of degenerates
The act of love strongly resembles torture or surgery
Whatever is created by the spirit is more alive than matter
God is the only being who need not even exist in order to reign
One can only forget about time by making use of it
There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create
There are in every man, at all times, two simultaneous tendencies, one toward God, the other toward Satan
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On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."