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I think I understand, now, why a certain line in her copy of Baudelaire was marked with that derisive exclamation-point on the margin: "Fuyez l'infini que vous portez en vous." "Fuyez?" it seemed to say. "Why 'fuyez'?" Fulfil it! Soriano

In comparing my work with other work of the same kind, I find a sort of relative satisfaction; but I see the intrinsic futility of it, and the insignificance of its success or failure. I do not believe in the public; I do not believe in my own work; I have no ambition, properly speaking, and I blow soap-bubbles for want of something to do. "Car le neant peut seul bien cacher l'infini."

The joy of becoming once more conscious of myself, of listening to the passage of time and the flow of the universal life, is sometimes enough to make me forget every desire and to quench in me both the wish to produce and the power to execute." It is the result of what he himself calls "l'eblouissement de l'infini."

"Fuyez l'infini que vous portez en vous" a line which, in my friend's copy of the book, had been marked on the margin with a derisive exclamation-point. The figure of one woman. Reading these "Fleurs du Mal" we realise, not for the first time, that there is something to be said in favour of libertinage for a poet.

The lieutenant having refreshed his memory by reference to Flammarion's Recits de l'Infini, of which he had a Russian translation, and some other books, proceeded to recapitulate that Jupiter accomplishes his revolution round the sun in 4,332 days 14 hours and 2 minutes; that he travels at the rate of 467 miles a minute along an orbit measuring 2,976 millions of miles; and that his rotation on his axis occupies only 9 hours and 55 minutes.

Vos prunelles ont bu la lumiere et la vie; telle une mer sans fond boit l'infini des cieux, car rien ne peut remplir l'abime de vos yeux, ou, comme en un lotus, dort votre ame assouvie. Pour vous plus de chimere ardemment poursuivie, quel que soit l'ideal, votre reve vaut mieux, et vous avez surtout le biasement des Dieux, Psyche, qu'Eros lui-meme a grand'peine eut ravi.

It makes everything so big, and at the same time so small, because there are infinite things too. Then it insists on reality; I see now it must insist on dogma for fear of unreality. Renan was quite wrong in that great sentence of his: 'Il ne faut rien dire de limitée en face de l'infini. The infinite is a fog to us if there are no outlines in our conception of it. Don't you think so?"