Limited Time Offer
Premium members can get their quote collection automatically imported into their Quotewise collections.
THE BOOK: A SPIRITUAL INSTRUMENT I am the author of a statement to which there have been varying reactions, including praise and blame, and which I s… - Stéphane Mallarmé
" "THE BOOK: A SPIRITUAL INSTRUMENT I am the author of a statement to which there have been varying reactions, including praise and blame, and which I shall make again in the present article. Briefly, it is this: all earthly existence must ultimately be contained in a book. It terrifies me to think of the qualities (among them genius, certainly) which the author of such a work will have to possess. I am one of the unpossessed. We will let that pass and imagine that it bears no author’s name. What, then, will the work itself be? I answer: a hymn, all harmony and joy; an immaculate grouping of universal relationships come together for some miraculous and glittering occasion. Man’s duty is to observe with the eyes of the divinity; for if his connection with that divinity is to be made clear, it can be expressed only by the pages of the open book in front of him.
English
Collect this quote
About Stéphane Mallarmé
Stéphane Mallarmé (March 18 1842 – September 9 1898), born Étienne Mallarmé, was a poet and critic. He was a major French symbolist poet, and his work anticipated and inspired several revolutionary artistic schools of the early 20th century, such as Dadaism, Surrealism, and Futurism.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Stephane Mallarme
•
Steph. Mallarme
•
Etienne Mallarmé
•
Etienne Mallarme
•
Mallarmé
•
Étienne Mallarmé
Related quotes. More quotes will automatically load as you scroll down, or you can use the load more buttons.
Additional quotes by Stéphane Mallarmé
WHEN SHADOW THREATENED WITH THE FATAL LAW…” When shadow threatened with the fatal law One old Dream, desire and pain of my spine, Grieved at perishing beneath ceilings funereal, It folded its indubitable wing within me. Luxury, O ebony room where, to charm a king, Celebrated garlands writhe in their death, You are but a proud lie spoken by darkness In the eyes of the lone man dazzled by his faith. Yes, I know that, far in deep night, the Earth Casts with great brilliance the strange mystery Under the hideous centuries that darken it less. Space ever alike if it grow or deny itself Rolls in that boredom vile fires as witnesses That genius has been lit with a festive star.
PREMIUM FEATURE
Advanced Search Filters
Filter search results by source, date, and more with our premium search tools.
Loading...