"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."
Voltaire

Pour moi c'est claire le passage que j'ai bcp aimé (qui me représente)  c'est celui en bas de mon message (j'écris jamais une chose qui n'a pas de sens) ...de Charles Baudelaire (de son fameux livre: les fleurs du mal) :

Edited by Triste Sire - 21 Juillet 2007 at 15:23

Encore un dernier poéme que j'adore :

ok je crois que je vais ajouté un autre poeme de Baudelaire (que je adore ) c'est un des chef d'oeuvre de la poésie francaise (pour moi) et qui est  "Le Mort Joyeux" et qui a été interprété par Peste Noire (un trés bon groupe de Black metal):

une petite partie de my immortel de evanescence
c tres sublime pour moi

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
And though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

Devil cracked the earthly shell
Foretold she was the one
Blew hope into the room and said:
You have to live before you die young

Je croi que je suis le seul a citer un passage d'un film... C'est V for Vendetta, lisez bien ça :

V: I can assure you I mean you no harm.

Evey: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey: Well, I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Evey: Oh. Right.

V: But on this most auspicious of nights permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

[V throws back his cape.]

V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition!  The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.  Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me "V".

et aussi :

V: Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.


Finallement :

Creedy: Take off your mask.

V: No.

[Creedy nods and two Fingermen approach V; one tries to remove his mask, but V kills them both]

Creedy: Defiant until the end, huh? You won't cry like him, will you? You're not afraid of death. You're like me.

V: The only thing you and I have in common, Mr. Creedy, is that we are both about to die.

Creedy: How do you imagine that'll happen?

V: With my hands around your neck.

Creedy: Bollocks. We've swept this whole place. You've got nothing. Nothing but your bloody knives and your fancy karate gimmicks. We have guns.

V: No. What you have are bullets and the hope that when your guns are empty I'm no longer standing, because if I am, you'll all be dead before you've reloaded.

Creedy: That's impossible. Kill him!

[Creedy's men open fire on V, who remains standing after their guns are empty, with many rounds fired]

V: My turn.

[V keeps his word and slays all of Creedy's men, while Creedy frantically reloads his revolver]

Creedy: (starts shooting the approaching V) Die! Die! Why won't you die? (his gun clicks empty) Why won't you die?

V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.

[V grabs Creedy by the neck, lifts him up and pins him to the fence; within seconds there is a sickening snap, and Creedy goes limp]

Edited by SkinDeep - 09 Avril 2009 at 04:56