The poet, therefore, is truly the thief of fire. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even; he will have to make sure his visions can be smelled, fondled, listened to; if what he brings back from beyond has form, he gives it form; if it has none, he gives it none. A language must be foundโฆof the soul, for the soul and will include everything: perfumes, sounds colors, thought grappling with thought
Arthur RimbaudBut, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
Arthur RimbaudAnd from then on, I bathed in the Poem of the Sea, star-infused, and opalescent, devouring green azures
Arthur RimbaudStronger than alcohol, vaster than poetry, Ferment the freckled red bitterness of love!
Arthur RimbaudHere I am on the shore of Brittany. Let the cities light up in the evening. My day is done. I am leaving Europe. The sea air will burn my lungs. Lost climates will tan me. I will swim, trample the grass, hung, and smoke especially. I will drink alcohol as strong as boiling metal--just as my dear ancestors did around their fires.
Arthur Rimbaud