We are in a period of such individualism that one no longer speaks of disciples; one speaks of thieves.
A man's truest self realizations might require him, above all, to learn to close his eyes: to let himself be taken unawares, to follow his dark angel, to risk his illegal instincts.
Elegance ceases to exist when it is noticed.
The worst tragedy for a poet is to be admired through being misunderstood.
I'm not willing just to be tolerated. That wounds my love of love and of liberty.
Youth can only assert itself through the conviction that its ventures surpass all others and resemble nothing.
Love is mainly an affair of short spasms. If these spasms disappoint us, love dies. It is very seldom that it weathers the experience and becomes friendship.
Everyone's pet is the most outstanding. This begets mutual blindness.
Mirrors should reflect a little before throwing back images.
Without opium, plans, marriages and journeys appear to me just as foolish as if someone falling out of a window were to hope to make friends with the occupants of the room before which he passes.
It is difficult to live without opium after having known it because it is difficult, after knowing opium, to take earth seriously. And unless one is a saint, it is difficult to live without taking earth seriously.
I am happy to exhibit, but not to put myself on exhibition.
Continue reading Proust. His magnificent intelligence is particularly fond of describing stupidity. Which is ultimately exhausting.
It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.
Anything of any importance cannot help but be unrecognizable, since it bears no resemblance to anything already known.
The greatest masterpiece in literature is only a dictionary out of order.
The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
I have never felt any connection with my family. There isI must say simplysomething in me that is not in my family. That was not visible in my father or mother. I do not know its origin.
Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!
Lack of manners is the sign of a hero.
Expect neither reward nor beatitude. Return noble waves for ignoble.
Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail.
Be a constant outrage to modesty There is nothing to fear: modesty is exercised only among the blind.
The spirit of creation is the spirit of contradiction. It is the breakthrough of appearances toward an unknown reality.
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