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Quote by Dariusz Radziejewski

“What raises my doubts, and what still troubles and haunts me, is a sort of deliberate lack of precision in the sonnet “Vowels,” or perhaps even a conscious casualness and some subversion lurking in this masterpiece, undermining my theory in a perfidious way, as I have reason to suspect that Rimbaud couldn’t care less whether “A” was black or white.”

Quote by Dariusz Radziejewski

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Adieu, Rimbaud!

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Dariusz Radziejewski

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“Living among the wild blacks, for whom killing a man is like spitting, and killing a white man elevates the status of a warrior, was a balm to me, soothing the unbearable pain of an existence based on convention, the Ten Commandments, and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. In Africa, I took a few lives by my own hand, but it was either in self-defense or to protect valuable cargo I was transporting. I don’t count the slaves traveling with the caravan because they always dropped like flies and were worth less than camels.”

“And now (admiring that proſpect) To Rome this ſpeech he did direct. O ſeate of Gods! could this men ſo Forſake thee, ere they ſaw a foe? If thou canſt not, what Citty can Deſerue to be fought for by man? Well haue the higher powers repreſt, The humors of the armed Eaſt, From ioyning with the Hungars ſtout And all that fierce outragious rout Of Dakes, of Getes, and Sarmatans, From bringing downe their bloudy bands To thee (poore Rome) by Fortune ſpar'd Whom fearefull Pompey durſt not gaurd. So weakely mand, more bleſt art farre With ciuill then with Forraigne warre. Thus ſaid, forthwith he did inveſt The Citty, then with feares poſſeſt: For ſure they thought, that (in his ire) All should haue beene conſum'd with fire, And Temples ſhould to ruine runne, As ſoone as hee the walles had wonne. Such was the meaſure of their fright, His will they conſtru'd by his might. And in ſuch ſudden mazements weare, That they their ſacred rites forbeare. The common ſort to ſportings bent, Their merry tunes turn'd to lament: No ſpleen they had, their ſprights were ſpent The Roman Fathers reuerend troope In Phabus Pallace fitting, droope: Not thither called at an houre, By order of the Senates powre. No Conſuls with their preſence grace Their ſacred ſeates in ſupreme place. Nor next to them the lawes to ſway The Prator ſate in his array. No Coches at the Senate gate, That thither bring the Peeres of ſtate. Caſar alone was all in all, His priuate voyce the Court doth thrall. The Fathers to his heſts giue way, Rady his pleasure to obay. Whether he Monarchy deſire, Or would to ſacred rites aſpire: Or liues of Senators would waſt, Or them into exile would caſt. But he (more modeſt and more milde) Did blush his power ſhould be defil'd More to command (with threatning feare) Then well the Roman ſtate could beare.”