Stéphane Mallarmé Quotes

I have made a long enough descent into the void to speak with certainty. There is nothing but beauty — and beauty has only one perfect expression, Poetry. All the rest is a lie.

Did I love a dream?

Your very natural and clear childlike laughter that charms the air,

Le vierge, le vivace et le bel aujourd'hui
Va-t-il nous déchirer avec un coup d'aile ivre
Ce lac dur oublié que hante sous le givre
Le transparent glacier des vols qui n'ont pas fui !

Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.

Tu choisis ton temps pour renaître.
Tout, de la fleur ivre et debout
jusqu’au rayon de la fenêtre
sourit, et tu fais comme tout.

…Do I see the ghost of a princess?
Cease walking in some unknown era…

How, save through obscure Terrors, imagine more implacable still And as a suppliant the god who some day will Receive the gift of your grace! and for whom, Devoured by anguish, do you keep the unknown Splendor and mystery of your being?

When the sad sun sinks, It shall pierce through the body of wax till it shrinks! No sunset, but the red awakening Of the last day concluding everything Struggles so sadly that time disappears, The redness of apocalypse, whose tears Fall on the child, exiled to her own proud Heart, as the swan makes its plumage a shroud For its eyes, the old swan, and is carried away From the plumage of grief to the eternal highway Of its hopes, where it looks on the diamonds divine Of a moribund star, which never more shall shine!

The world was made in order to result in a beautiful book.

I wait, but do not know for what or why Or perhaps you are uttering the last bruised sighs, Ignorant of the mystery and of your cries, Of a childhood feeling its frozen gems Being broken off at last amidst its dreams.

It is in front of the the paper that the artist creates himself.

In reading, a lonely quiet concert is given to our minds; all our mental faculties will be present in this symphonic exaltation.

Кад се предмету каже име, уништава се три четвртине онога уживања у песми које се састоји у постепеном погађању: наговестити и евоцирати – то је оно што машту усхићује.

To name an object is to suppress three-fourths of the enjoyment of the poem which is made up of gradual discovery: to suggest it, that is the dream.

No fundo, o mundo foi feito para acabar num belo livro.