Best Charles Baudelaire Qoutes
- An oasis of horror in a desert of boredom. Boredom
- 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… Beneath
- Passion I hate, and spirit does me wrong. Let us love gently. Doe
- 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… Air
- 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… Abyss
- The old Paris is no more (the form of a city changes faster, alas! than a mortal's heart). Alas
- 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 Devil's hand directs our every move - / the things we loathed become the things we love Devil
- What men call love is a very small, restricted, feeble thing compared with this ineffable orgy, this divine prostitution of the soul giving itself entire,… All
- The beautiful is always bizarre. Art
- Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty. Beauty
- I have felt the wind on the wing of madness. Felt
- 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… Beauty
- Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will. Childhood
- 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… All
- And, drunk with my own madness, I shouted at him furiously, "Make life beautiful! Make life beautiful! Beautiful
- It's the devil who pulls the strings that make us dance Dance
- This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to suffer in front of… Another Believes
- My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it. Beast
- Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato… Adapt
- The man who is unable to people his solitude is equally unable to be alone in a bustling crowd. The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege… Able
- One can only forget about time by making use of it. Forget
- Dancing can reveal all the mystery that music conceals. All
- The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal. Alas
- For the perfect idler, for the passionate observer it becomes an immense source of enjoyment to establish his dwelling in the throng, in the ebb… Anywhere
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