Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I myself am an absolute abyss.
Actors are athletes of the heart.
Those who live, live off the dead.
Without sarcasm I sink into chaos.
The actor is an athlete of the heart.
You are quite unnecessary, young man!
Life consists of burning up questions.
I abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.
I call for actors burning at the stakes, laughing at the flames.
We have the right to lie, but not about the heart of the matter.
There is nothing like an insane asylum for gently incubating death.
There are those who go to the theatre as they would go to a brothel.
Cruelty in the theatre is unrelenting decisiveness, diligence, strictness.
All true language is incomprehensible, like the chatter of a beggar's teeth.
I am stigmatized by a living death in which real death holds no terrors for me.
We must wash literature off ourselves. We want to be men above all, to be human.
The actor is merely a crude empiricist, a practitioner guided by vague instinct.
I cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself
Tragedy on the stage is no longer enough for me, I shall bring it into my own life.
I prefer the people who eat off the bare earth the delirium from which they were born.
To break through language in order to touch life is to create or re-create the theater.
I do not work within the confines of any realm. I work in the unique moment of duration.
If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again.
Excuse my absolute freedom. I refuse to make a distinction between any of the moments of myself.
Cruelty signifies rigor, implacable intention and decision, irreversible and absolute determination.
Never tire yourself more than necessary, even if you have to found a culture on the fatigue of your bones.
Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others.
No one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or invented except literally to get out of hell.
Don't tire yourself more than need be, even at the price of founding a culture on the fatigue of your bones.
The fixation of the theater in one language--written words, music, lights, noises--betokens its imminent ruin.
This is why true beauty never strikes us directly. The setting sun is beautiful because of all it makes us lose.
In our present state of degeneration it is through the skin that metaphysics must be made to re-enter our minds.
With society and its public, there is no longer any other language than that of bombs, barricades, and all that follows.
Squander your riches far from this unfeeling body to which no season, either spiritual or sensual, makes any difference.
I know each conversation with a psychiatrist in the morning made me want to hang myself because I knew I could not strangle him.
Hell is of this world and there are men who are unhappy escapees from hell, escapees destined ETERNALLY to reenact their escape.
All writing is garbage. People who come out of nowhere to try and put into words any part of what goes on in their minds are pigs.
It is not opium which makes me work but its absence, and in order for me to feel its absence it must from time to time be present.
In consciousness dwells the wondrous, with it man attains the realm beyond the material, and the Peyote tells us, where to find it.
We do not die because we have to die; we die because one day, and not so long ago, our consciousness was forced to deem it necessary.
I am a man by virtue of my hands and my feet, my belly, my heart of meat, my stomach whose knots reunite me to the putrefaction of life.
Poetry is a dissociating and anarchic force which through analogy, associations and imagery, thrives on the destruction of known relationships.
The true theater, because it moves and makes use of living instruments, continues to stir up shadows where life has never ceased to grope its way.
I see in the act of throwing the dice and of risking the affirmation of some intuitively felt truth, however uncertain, my whole reason for living.
A real theatrical experience shakes the calm of the senses, liberates the compressed unconscious and drives towards a kind of potential revolt . . .
[defines a madman as] a man who preferred to become mad,in the socially accepted sense of the word, rather than forfeit a certain superior idea of human honor.
The idea of a detached art, of poetry as a charm which exists only to distract our leisure, is a decadent idea and an unmistakable symptom of our power to castrate.
A tainted society has invented psychiatry to defend itself against the investigations of certain superior intellects whose faculties of divination would be troublesome.
So society has strangled in its asylums all those it wanted to get rid of or protect itself from, because they refused to become its accomplices in certain great nastinesses.
So long as we have failed to eliminate any of the causes of human despair, we do not have the right to try to eliminate those means by which man tries to cleanse himself of despair.