I should like the fields tinged with red, the rivers yellow and the trees painted blue. Nature has no imagination.
Charles BaudelaireThe Poet is a kinsman in the clouds Who scoffs at archers, loves a stormy day; But on the ground, among the hooting crowds, He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.
Charles BaudelaireLife has but one true charm: the charm of the game. But what if weโre indifferent to whether we win or lose?
Charles Baudelaire