Stephane Mallarme
Stephane Mallarme
Stéphane Mallarmé; 18 March 1842 – 9 September 1898), whose real name was Étienne Mallarmé, was a French poet and critic. He was a major French symbolist poet, and his work anticipated and inspired several revolutionary artistic schools of the early 20th century, such as Cubism, Futurism, Dadaism, and Surrealism...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth18 March 1842
CountryFrance
jobs reality creating
It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.
beautiful book order
The world was made in order to result in a beautiful book.
hands poetic pure
The pure work implies the disappearance of the poet as speaker, who hands over to the words.
dice
All thoughts emit a throw of dice
teacher soul needs
Every soul is a melody which needs renewing.
wish sacred mystery
Everything that is sacred and that wishes to remain so must envelop itself in mystery.
inspirational education
To define is to kill. To suggest is to create.
poet abandon
Poets don't finish poems, they abandon them.
paint produce effects
Paint, not the thing but the effect which it produces.
dream action influence
Dreams have as much influences as actions.
dream lying soul
Yes, I know, we are merely empty forms of matter, but we are indeed sublime in having invented God and our soul. So sublime, my friend, that I want to gaze upon matter, fully conscious that it exists, and yet launching itself madly into Dream, despite its knowledge that Dream has no existence, extolling the Soul and all the divine impressions of that kind which have collected within us from the beginning of time and proclaiming, in the face of the Void which is truth, these glorious lies!
book world ends
The world exists to end up in a book.
book flesh alas
The flesh is sad, alas, and I have read all the books.
lying flower precious-stones
O naked flower of my lips, you lie! I await a thing unknown or perhaps, unaware of the mystery and your cries you give, O lips, the supreme tortured moans of a childhood groping among its reveries to sort out finally its cold precious stones.