Top Guillaume Apollinaire Quotes

Guillaume Apollinaire Biography

Guillaume Apollinaire (French: [ɡijom apɔlinɛʁ]; 26 August 1880 – 9 November 1918) was a French poet, playwright, short story writer, novelist, and art critic of Polish descent.

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Guillaume Apollinaire Quotes

Twentieth pupil of the centuries knows its stuff and bird-changed this century like Jesus climbs the sky.

Bird, Jesus, Like, Pupil, Sky, Twentieth

I love men, not for what unites them, but for what divides them, and I want to know most of all what gnaws at their hearts.

Divides, Heart, Know, Love, Men, Unites

Without poets, without artists. . . everything would fall apart into chaos. There would be no more seasons, no more civilizations, no more thought, no more humanity, no more life even; and impotent darkness would reign forever. Poets and artists together determine the features of their age, and the future meekly conforms to their edit.

Artist, Artists, Civilization, Edit, Fall, Humanity

Joy came always after pain.

Came, Joy, Pain

A structure becomes architectural, and not sculptural, when its elements no longer have their justification in nature.

Architectural, Architecture, Elements, Longer, Nature, Sculptural

It's raining my soul, it's raining, but it's raining dead eyes.

Rain, Eye, Soul, Raining, Dead

Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony. The sublime idea men have of the universe would collapse with dizzying speed. The order which we find in nature, and which is only an effect of art, would at once vanish. Everything would break up in chaos. There would be no seasons, no civilization, no thought, no humanity; even life would give way, and the impotent void would reign everywhere.

Art, Collapse, Effect, Ideas, Men, Order

I hate artists who are not of their time.

Hate, Artist, I Hate, Artists, Time

We cannot carry our father's corpse with us everywhere we go.

Carry, Corpse, Corpses, Everywhere, Father, Live In The Present

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Demeure, Jours, Les, Life, Vienne, Vont

Without poets, without artists, men would soon weary of nature's monotony.

Art, Artists, Inspiring, Men, Monotony, Weary

My, how beautiful is war! its songs, its leisure!

Beautiful, Song, Songs, War

Matisse renovates rather than innovates.

Innovates, Matisse, Renewal, Renovates

Paint with whatever material you please - with pipes, postage stamps, postcards or playing cards, painted paper, or newspapers.

Cards, Paper, Paint, Please, Material

I don't want to work. I want to smoke.

Smoke, Want, Work

Joy always came after pain.

Came, Joy, Pain

Artists are, above all, men who want to become inhuman.

Art, Artists, Become, Inhuman, Men, Want

People quickly grow accustomed to being the slaves of mystery.

Criticism, Grow, Mystery, People, Quickly, Slaves

How slow life is, how violent hope is.

Hope, Life, Life Is, Slow, Violent

One day
One day I waited for myself
I said to myself Guillaume it's time you came
So I could know just who I am
I who know others.

Day, One Day, Said, Time, Waited, Who I Am

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Guillaume Apollinaire Biography

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