Sap which mounts, and flowers which thrust, Your childhood is a bower: Let my fingers wander in the moss Where glows the rosebud Let me among th….

A poem is really a kind of machine for producing the poetic state by means of words..

The rosy hearth, the lamplight's narrow beam, The meditation that is rather dream, With looks that lose themselves in cherished looks; The hour of st….

The poet is a madman lost in adventure..

La musique avant toute chose..

I love this word decadence, all shimmering in purple and gold. It suggests the subtle thoughts of ultimate civilization, a high literary culture, a s….

A vast black sleep falls over my life sleep, all hope sleep, all desire..

I am the Empire at the end of the decadence..

London, black as crows and noisy as ducks, prudish with all the vices in evidence, everlastingly drunk, in spite of ridiculous laws about drunkenness….

Music before all else, and for that choose the irregular, which is vaguer and melts better into the air..

I like this word decadent; all shimmering and purple and gold..

A flat black bug, that is London..

Tears fall in my heart As tears fall on the town..

Take eloquence and wring its neck..

Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches, and here is my heart which beats only for you..

Your soul is a chosen landscape Where charming masked and costumed figures go Playing the lute and dancing and almost Sad beneath their fantastic dis….

Prends l'e loquence et tords-lui son cou! Take eloquence and break its neck!.