كانت الأخلاق هي رخاوة الدماغ. كانت الكائنات والأشياء جميعا تبدو لي....... حيوات أخرى حولها....... لحظة من حيواتهم الأخرى....... لا مبادئ - Arthur Rimbaud

Il faut être absolument moderne.

A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed — and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and if, demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!

الحياة تزدهر بالعمل، حقيقة قديمة: أنا، ليست حياتي ثقيلة بما فيه الكفاية، إنها تحلّق وتطفو بعيدا فوق الفِعل، هذه النقطة العزيزة من العالم