QuoteProject
The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.
Arthur Rimbaud
ShareWTF𝕏

Interpretation

What this quote means

This quote reflects the self-destructive nature of consumption and the beauty that can arise from it.

In this quote, Rimbaud uses the imagery of a wolf howling and consuming its meal to illustrate the intense and sometimes destructive process of self-examination and creativity. The wolf represents an internal struggle, where the act of consumption symbolizes a deeper engagement with one's own experiences and emotions, suggesting that in this struggle, beauty can emerge even from darker aspects of life.

Themes

SelfConsumptionNatureBeautyDestruction

In practice

Example use cases

In a poetry reading, to illustrate the complexities of creation and self-reflection.

More from Arthur Rimbaud

And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.
Arthur RimbaudRead
My wisdom is as spurned as chaos. What is my nothingness, compared to the amazement that awaits you?
Arthur RimbaudRead
In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.
Arthur RimbaudRead
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
Arthur RimbaudRead
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
Arthur RimbaudRead
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
Arthur RimbaudRead

Similar quotes

Tonight I feel the stars are out_x000D_ to use me for target practice.
Yusef KomunyakaaRead
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
William Butler YeatsRead
I saw the gooseflesh on my skin. I did not know what made it. I was not cold. Had a ghost passed over? No, it was the poetry.
Sylvia PlathRead
My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows. I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble; it is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream.
Dylan ThomasRead
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky
T. S. EliotRead
I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel For words, like nature, half reveal And half conceal the soul within. But, for the unquiet heart and brain A use measured language lie's The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotic's, numbing pain In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er Like coarsest clothes against the cold But large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more.
Alfred Lord TennysonRead

A little wisdom, now and then

Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.