Arthur Rimbaud

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

By being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent.

True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.

In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that perhaps those whom I met did not see me.

Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.