« I am beautiful, O mortals! Like a dream of stone,
And my breast, where each one has been bruised in turn,
Is made to inspire in the poet a love
Eternal and mute like matter.
I sit enthroned in the azure like a misunderstood sphinx;
I unite a heart of snow with the whiteness of swans;
I hate the movement that displaces lines,
And I never cry and I never laugh.
Poets, before my grand attitudes,
Which I seem to borrow from the proudest monuments,
Will consume their days in austere studies;
For I have, to fascinate these docile lovers,
Pure mirrors that make all things more beautiful:
My eyes, my wide eyes with eternal clarity! » (Charles Baudelaire)
DantéBéa 