My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
My heart is lost — the beasts have eaten it.
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My heart is lost

— the beasts have eaten it.
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charles baudelaire les fleurs du mal

More “Charles baudelaire” Quotes

If rape or arson, poison or the knifeHas wove no pleasing patterns in the stuffOf this drab canvas we accept as life -It — Charles Baudelaire
There are women who inspire you with the desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them — but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly beneath her gaze.
I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement tha — Charles Baudelaire, Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal: A Bilingual Edition
To be away from home and yet find oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and ye — Charles Baudelaire
the Devil's hand directs our every movethe things we loathed become the things we love — day by day we drop through stinking shadesquite undeterred on our descent to Hell.
To fornicate is to aspire to enter into another — the artist never emerges from himself.