Charles Baudelaire Quotes

It is from the womb of art that criticism was born.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet. repr. In The Mirror of Art, ed. Jonathan Mayne (1955). "Salon of 1846," sct. 1, published in Curiosités Esthétiques (1868).
The whole visible universe is but a storehouse of images and signs to which the imagination will give a relative place and value; it is a sort of pasture which the imagination must digest and transform.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet. repr. In The Mirror of Art, ed. Jonathan Mayne (1955). "Salon of 1859," sct. 3, Curiosités Esthétiques (1868).
Common sense tells us that the things of the earth exist only a little, and that true reality is only in dreams.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Artificial Paradise, dedication (1860).
Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them has to give place.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet. repr. In The Mirror of Art, ed. Jonathan Mayne (1955). "Salon of 1859," sect. 2, Curiosités Esthétiques (1868).
Any man who does not accept the conditions of life sells his soul.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Artificial Paradise, The Poem of Haschish, V. Moral (1860).
However incoherent a human existence may be, human unity is not bothered by it.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Artificial Paradise, An Opium-eater, VIII. Visions of Oxford (1860).
I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet. repr. In The Mirror of Art, ed. Jonathan Mayne (1955). "Salon of 1859," sct. 3, Curiosités Esthétiques (1868).
There is no dream of love, however ideal it may be, which does not end up with a fat, greedy baby hanging from the breast.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Samuel Cramer, in La Fanfarlo (1847), trans. 1986.
How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Samuel Cramer, in La Fanfarlo (1847), trans. 1986.
In philosophical inquiry, the human spirit, imitating the movement of the stars, must follow a curve which brings it back to its point of departure. To conclude is to close a circle.
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet, critic. Artificial Paradise, The Poem of Haschish, V. Moral (1860).