Remix from Arthur Rimbaud from A Season in Hell:

I have the aspirations of my ancestors of the avant-garde, their distaste for authority and their belief in the anarchist ideal. I find my intentions as vigilant as theirs. Only I don’t butter my hair. The Futurists were the most feverish slayers of aesthetic barbarians and scorchers of the anachronistic of their time. From them too: a break from the horrible shell of reality and love of sacrilege, oh! All the vices, anger, yearnings, magnificent – above all, giving myself utterly to the unknown.