Author of quotes: Charles Baudelaire. Page 4

Folly, pettiness, and greed, and debauchery
And soul oppress us, and the body corrode;
We pangs of torture, delight,
Like insects, stinging and sour.

A man with his wife comes to type. He takes aim at the doll and says to his wife: "I imagine that is you." Zazhmurivaetsya and carries the doll to smithereens. Then, kissing the arm says: "my angel, how I thank you for your accuracy!"

Why the sea gives us such an endless and inescapable pleasure?
Because the sea makes me think about the vastness and movement. Six or seven leagues seem to be a ray of infinity. Here it is, infinity, albeit in miniature. What does it matter, as long as it is enough to hint at the idea of infinity? Twelve or fourteen leagues (in diameter), and twelve or fourteen leagues subluxate water enough to create the most complete picture of the beautiful, what is available to man in his temporary shelter.

The work, though small, repeated three hundred and sixty five times, brings three hundred and sixty-five times the money, let and small, but the amount of forming fortune. But at the same time gain and glory.

Why Democrats don't like cats, not hard to guess. Cat is beautiful; it suggests luxury, purity, bliss etc.

At times melancholy seizes sailors,
And they for the sake of idle amusement then
Catch birds of the ocean, great sweeping
Mourners in the rough road of the court.
Thrown roughly to the deck, victim of violence
Disgraced king of the heights of blue,
Lowering his gigantic white wings
He, like oars, their hard drags behind him.
Only recently beautiful, vzvivayuschiesya to the clouds,
He has become so impotent, ridiculous, ridiculous!
He smokes him in the beak tabachischem smelly,
The mocking, hobbling, skipping after him.

Rubens, the sea of forgetfulness, broderie the flesh,
Leni garden where bezubik the wreath of bodies
As the water in flood as storms in flight
The riot of life no one raised the limit.
Leonardo da Vinci - in the vast shaky
Wraith dim mirrors, where, through the haze visible
Seraphim mysterious beckon a smile
In the Kingdom of pine trees, in the ice, unprecedented in the country.
Rembrandt, sad, full of the groans of the hospital,
Black cross, blackened the walls and the vault,
And flash beam illuminated the face
Those who pray to the sky amongst the filth...

Is it acceptable to stoop so low to imagine yourself happy?

And maybe you
Just a delusion of the mind,
Running from the truth in dreams?

Love is a rose.
Each petal is an illusion
Each spike is a reality.

Oh, how our world is large if the dim light of the lamp,
As the eyes of the past it is infinitely small!

What is love?
The need to go beyond himself.
People - adoring, deified animal.
To adore, to deify means to sacrifice himself, to prostitute themselves.
So all love is prostitution.

Oh, I'd loved you; in a fit of burning dreams
I'd lavished you treasure kisses,
From these fresh legs to the black KOs,
Whenever, easily keeping a wave of sobs,
The Queen of scary! in the dark evenings
You clouded the cold glitter of the pupils!

Who does not know how to fill their loneliness, not able to be one among the crowds.