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
expression self childhood
Genius is nothing more or less than childhood recovered by will, a childhood how equipped for self-expression with an adult's capacities.
children drunk childhood
A child sees everything in a sense of newness - he is always drunk. Genius is nothing but childhood re-attained at will.
childhood genius
Genius is simply childhood, rediscovered by an act of will.
childhood genius
Genius is childhood recalled at will.
beautiful childhood theatre
What I have always found most beautiful in the theatre, in my childhood, and still today, is lustre--a beautiful object, luminous, crystalline, complex, circular, symmetrical. However, I do not absolutely deny the value of dramatic literature. Only, I should like the actors to be mounted on high pattens, to wear masks more expressive than the human face, and to speak through megaphones.
childhood inspire genius
Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.
cannon directions fly happiness hear humanity limbs performing sacrifice search victims
The cannon thunders - limbs fly in all directions - one can hear the groans of victims and the howling of those performing the sacrifice - it's Humanity in search of happiness
absolutely against liking melancholy remedy
As a remedy against all ills; poverty, sickness, and melancholy only one thing is absolutely necessary; a liking for work.
accept conditions human life man sells
Any man who does not accept the conditions of human life sells his soul.
shown thank
Thank you. You have shown me the way back to myself.
dishonor fish swimming
I am swimming in dishonor like a fish in water.
breath wind wings
A breath of wind from the wings of madness.
hate passion doe
Passion I hate, and spirit does me wrong. Let us love gently.
travel home independent
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 and flow, the bustle, the fleeting and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel at home anywhere; to see the world, to be at the very center of the world, and yet to be unseen of the world, such are some of the minor pleasures of those independent, intense and impartial spirits, who do not lend themselves easily to linguistic definitions. The observer is a prince enjoying his incognito wherever he goes.