And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, "Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful! — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, be endlessly… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
Within the bottle's depths, the wine's soul sang one night. Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue. — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of time weighing… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
“And yet to wine, to opium even, I prefer the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself; and in the… — charles baudelaire Copy Share Image
If wine were to disappear from human production, I believe it would cause an absence, a failure in health and intellect, a… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
It is time to get drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk; get drunk without stopping!… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
It is the hour to be drunken! to escape being the martyred slaves of time, be ceaselessly drunk. On wine, on poetry,… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it-it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
In order not to feel time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way.… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
You are sitting and smoking; you believe that you are sitting in your pipe, and that your pipe is smoking you; you… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
If wine disappeared from human production, I believe there would be, in the health and intellect of the planet, a void, a… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
“Be Drunken, Always. That is the point; nothing else matters. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weigh you… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
“ Charles Baudelaire: Get Drunk One should always be drunk. That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
“Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
Who would dare assign to art the sterile function of imitating nature? — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist”—Charles Baudelaire “The second greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
“This life is a hospital in which each patient is possessed by the desire to change beds. One wants to suffer in front of… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
There is no such thing as a long piece of work, except one that you dare not start. — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
Our religion is itself profoundly sad - a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
But the true voyagers are only those who leave Just to be leaving; hearts light, like balloons, They never turn aside from their fatality… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
Amer savoir, celui qu'on tire du voyage! Bitter is the knowledge gained in travelling. — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
“I can barely conceive a type of beauty in which there is no melancholy.” — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
The vices of man, as full of horror as one might suppose them to be, contain the proof (if in nothing else but their… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
Multitude, solitude: equal and interchangeable terms for the active and prolific poet. — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
Any healthy man can go without food for two days - but not without poetry. — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
Man loves man so much that when he flees the city, it is still to seek the crowd, that is, to rebuild the city… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
“—But why is she weeping? She, the perfect beauty, Who could put at her feet the conquered human race, What secret malady gnaws at… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share
