Charles Baudelaire
Charles Baudelaire
Charles Pierre Baudelaire; April 9, 1821 – August 31, 1867) was a French poet who also produced notable work as an essayist, art critic, and pioneering translator of Edgar Allan Poe...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth9 April 1821
CityParis, France
CountryFrance
fashion two atmosphere
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.
childhood inspire genius
Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.
happiness beauty way
There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.
delight matter infinity
What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?
ephemeral eternal
Extract the eternal from the ephemeral.
beautiful art creativity
The beautiful is always bizarre.
suffering remember form
Remembering is only a new form of suffering.
time flower circles
Here comes the time when, vibrating on its stem, every flower fumes like a censer; noises and perfumes circle in the evening air.
warrior may three
There are but three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the warrior and the poet. To know, to kill and to create. The rest of mankind may be taxed and drudged, they are born for the stable, that is to say, to practise what they call professions.
sky fathom
Music fathoms the sky.
understanding world rounds
The world only goes round by misunderstanding.
dance dancing ballet
Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.
rivers yellow blue
I should like the fields tinged with red, the rivers yellow and the trees painted blue. Nature has no imagination.
lying civilization tables
True Civilization does not lie in gas, nor in steam, nor in turn-tables. It lies in the reduction of the traces of original sin.