The poet is like the prince of clouds
Who haunts the tempest and laughs at the archer;
Exiled on the ground in the midst of jeers,
His giant wings prevent him from walking. – Charles Baudelaire
There is no more steely barb than that of the Infinite. – Charles Baudelaire
Every idea is endowed of itself with immortal life, like a human being. All created form, even that which is created by man, is immortal. For form is independent of matter: molecules do not constitute form. – Charles Baudelaire
Any man who does not accept the conditions of human life sells his soul. – Charles Baudelaire