79 Quotes by Guillaume Apollinaire

People quickly grow accustomed to being the slaves of mystery.

Come to the edge, He said.They said: We are afraid.Come to the edge, He said.They came. He pushed them,And they flew . . ."— Guillaume ApollinairetFrench poet

Now you are walking in Paris all alone in the crowd As herds of bellowing buses drive by Love's anguish tightens your throat As if you were never to be loved again If you lived in the old days you would enter a monasteryYou are ashamed when you discover yourself reciting a prayerYou make fun of yourself and like the fire of Hell your laughter crackles The sparks of your laugh gild the depths of your lifeIt's a painting hanging in a dark museumAnd sometimes you go and look at it close up

Come to the edge, He said.They said: We are afraid.Come to the edge, He said.They came. He pushed them,And they flew . . .

Horse [Man you will find here a new representation of the universe at its most poetic and most modern Man man man man man man Give yourself up to this art where the sublime does not exclude charm and brilliancy does not blur the nuance it is now or never the moment to be sensitive to poetry for it dominates all dreadfully Guillaume Apollinaire]

Vase [Why weep Come back tomorrow There are also poisonous flowers and flowers always open in the evening she loves the cinema she has been in Russia Love married with disdain Pearl-studded watch a trip to Montrouge Maisons- Lafitte and everything finishes in perfumes remember Let the flower bloom and let the fruit rot and let the grain sprout while the storms rage]

S'en est allée l'amanteAu village voisin malgré la pluieSans son amant s'en est allée l'amantePour danser avec un autre que luiLes femmes mentent mentent

L'anémone et l'ancolieOnt poussé dans le jardinOù dort la mélancolieEntre l'amour et le dédainIl y vient aussi nos ombresQue la nuit dissiperaLe soleil qui les rend sombresAvec elles disparaîtraLes déités des eaux vivesLaissent couler leurs cheveuxPasse il faut que tu poursuivesCette belle ombre que tu veux

La PucePuces, amis, amantes même,Qu'ils sont cruels ceux qui nous aiment!Tout notre sang coule pour eux.Les bien-aimés sont malheureux.