My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.
Life’s greatest gift is the freedom it leaves you to step out of it whenever you choose.
We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man’s passing.
The pure playfulness of certain wholly whimsical portions of (Charles) Cros’s work should not obscure the fact that at the center of some of his most beautiful poems a revolver is leveled straight at us.
Keep reminding yourself that literature is one of the saddest roads that leads to everything.
Tell me whom you haunt and I’ll tell you who you are.
The important thing is that man is lost in time, in the moment that immediately precedes him – which only attests, by reflection, to the fact that he is lost in the moment that follows
The man who cannot visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.
(speaking of Ann Radcliffe) A work of art worthy of the name is one which gives us back the freshness of the emotions of childhood.
What is admirable about the fantastic is that there is no longer anything fantastic: there is only the real.
Nothing that surrounds us is object, all is subject.
Humor (is) the process that allows one to brush reality aside when it gets too distressing.
The lamentable expression: ‘But it was only a dream”, the increasing use of which – among others in the domain of the cinema – has contributed not a little to encourage such hypocrisy, has for a long while ceased to merit discussion.
It is hard not to see into the future, faced with today’s blind architecture – a thousand times more stupid and more revolting than that of other ages. How bored we shall be inside!
A word and everything is saved.A word and all is lost.
At the word witch, we imagine the horrible old crones from Macbeth. But the cruel trials witches suffered teach us the opposite. Many perished precisely because they were young and beautiful.
There are fairy stories to be written for adults. Stories that are still in a green state.
The mind, placed before any kind of difficulty, can find an ideal outlet in the absurd. Accommodation to the absurd readmits adults to the mysterious realm inhabited by children.
The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up.
They rarely discovered a star red as a distant crime or a star-fish.
All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.””Love is when you meet someone who tells you something new about yourself
It is more or less a given that nothing is less favorable to clairvoyance than the bright sun: physical light and mental light coexist on very poor terms.
Love is when you meet someone who tells you something new about yourself.
I am concerned with facts of quite unverifiable intrinsic value, but which, by their absolutely unexpected violently fortuitous character, and the kind of associations of suspect ideas they provoke.