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violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
Strange goddess, witch, and daughter of night,
Charles Baudelaire, tr. by Roy Campbell, from “Sed non Satiata,”
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dukeofbookingham-deactivated202
Baudelaire knows what’s important 🍷
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Charles Baudelaire, manuscrit autographe signé,1855.
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Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal - First Edition
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Carte de visite avec sa signature pyrogravée et sept lignes autographes, adressée à Leconte de Lisle. (Paris, mars - avril 1864).
The only manuscript proving epistolary exchange between Baudelaire and Leconte de Lisle.
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Note from Baudelaire to Leconte de Lisle, March 1864.
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Extract the eternal from the ephemeral.
Charles Baudelaire
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”Les Fleurs du Mal” with the author’s notes
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I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. My Heart Laid Bare, X (1887)
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metaphorformetaphor
Behave, my Sorrow! let’s have no more scenes.
Charles Baudelaire, from “Meditation,” Les Fleurs Du Mal (David R. Godine, 1985)
Calm down, my Sorrow, we must move with care. / You called for evening; it descends, it’s here.
Charles Baudelaire, “Meditation,” trans, Robert Lowell, Poetry (September 1961)
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letheane-deactivated20200121
–angels would damn themselves for me.
Charles Baudelaire, from ‘The Metamorphoses of the Vampire’
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Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.
Source: thequotejournals
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”Les Fleurs du Mal” with the author’s notes
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Through the unknown, we’ll find the new.“
Charles Baudelaire
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Always be drunk.
That’s it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time’s horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
‘Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!’
Charles Baudelaire, “Get Drunk”