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Arthur Rimbaud

On the blue summer evenings, I will go along the paths, And walk over the short grass, as I am pricked by the wheat: Daydreaming I will feel the coolness on my feet. I will let the wind bathe my bare head. I will not speak, I will have no thoughts: But infinite love will… Continue reading Arthur Rimbaud

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Robert Desnos

I have dreamed so much of you, Walked so often, talked so often with you, Loved your shadow so much. Nothing is left me of you. Nothing is left of me but a shadow among shadows, A being a hundred times more shadowy than a shadow, A shadowy being who comes, and comes again, in… Continue reading Robert Desnos

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Jean-Paul Sartre

Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories. ― Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit and Three Other Plays. (Vintage; Reissue edition, October 23, 1989) Originally published 1947.

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