That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal; from which it follows that irregularity β that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment, are a essential part and characteristic of beauty.
Charles BaudelaireRead
Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the longing for a style of writing that captures the essence of human emotion and dreams.
Charles Baudelaire expresses a deep desire for a form of poetic expression that transcends conventional structures, allowing for a unique and fluid connection to the emotional and dreamlike aspects of the human experience. He suggests that true art should resonate with the complexities of our inner thoughts and feelings, adapting to the various nuances of consciousness and inspiration.
In practice
A writer's workshop where participants discuss the importance of flowing language in capturing emotions.
That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal; from which it follows that irregularity β that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment, are a essential part and characteristic of beauty.
The dance can reveal everything mysterious that is hidden in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.
There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise a man by giving him more than he hopes for.
The priest is an immense being because he makes the crowd believe astonishing things.
I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.
Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred, and when they meet upon the same road, one of them has to give place.
I concentrate in my work on preserving and displaying the original flavor from each ingredient in a dish.
That strain again! It had a dying fall: _x000D_ _x000D_ O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound _x000D_ _x000D_ That breathes upon a bank of violets, _x000D_ _x000D_ Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: _x000D_ _x000D_ 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
Miller didn't write Death of a Salesman. He released it. It was there inside him, waiting to be turned loose. That's the measure of its merit.
Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing, though chilled, to muster for another day's progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.
Too much is demanded by the critic, attempted by the poet.
The trap into which all writers have, will, or should fall into, of writing The Great American Watchamacallit, is such an uncluttered and inviting one that from time to time I'm sure even the greatest have to pull themselves up short by the Shift key to remind themselves that it is story first that they should write.
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