This place has only three exits, sir: Madness, and Death.
Il faut que lâhomme sâĂ©vade de cette lice ridicule quâon lui a faite: le prĂ©tendu rĂ©el actuel avec la perspective dâun rĂ©el futur qui ne vaille guĂšre mieux. Chaque minute pleine porte en elle-mĂȘme la nĂ©gation de siĂšcles dâhistoire boitillante et cassĂ©e. Ceux Ă qui il appartient de faire virevolter ces huit flamboyants au-dessus de nous ne le pourront quâavec de la sĂšve pure._ Manifestes du surrĂ©alisme
Equally, the surrealists consider words as witnesses of life acting in a direct way in human affairs. To use words properly it was necessary to treat them with respect, for they were the intermediaries between oneself and the rest of creation. To abuse them was immediately to set oneself adrift from true being. Words need to be coaxed to reveal a little of their true nature, so as to close the breach that exists between the writer and the universe. The world is not something alien against which man is in conflict. Rather man and cosmos exist in reciprocal motion. We are not cast adrift in an alien or meaningless environment. The universe is intimate with us and, as Breton insisted, it is a cryptogram to be deciphered.
By giving words the latitude she does, (Marianne) Van Hirtum emphasizes their contagious qualities: they become almost like viruses, with which it is necessary to put oneself in harmony by sympathetic magic if one is not to be overwhelmed. ... What is essential is to become one with the sickness, that is, in the context of language as a whole, to enter into contact with words.
Youâre better looking than me. Youâre more intelligent than me. Your personality is more likable than mine. You make more money than me. Your family is nicer than mine. Your religion is better than mine. Youâve seen more beaches than me. Youâve been to more cities than me. Your automobile is nicer than mine. Your significant other is better looking than mine. Your candidate won. Your home team won. Youâre number one. But life is a tie. We all die.
We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.
Cine n-ar dori sÄ moarÄ visĂąnd cÄ moare?
Dive again and again into the river of uncertainty. Create in the dark, only then can you recognize the light.
I spoke fire, laughed smoke, and madness spilled forth from my inspiration.
In our modern world, this elemental quality of storytelling is denied. We live today in a world in which everything has its place and function and nothing is left out of place. Storytelling is thus at a discount and like everything else in a world ruled by the laws of exchange value, literature is required to submit itself to the requirements of the market and must learn, like any other commodity, to adapt and serve needs that lie outside of itself and its concrete value. It is forced to stand not for itself but for an ideological cause of one sort or another, whether it be political, social or literary. It cannot exist for itself: like everything else it has to be justified. And for this very reason the power of storytelling is automatically devalued. Literature is reduced to the status of complimentary utilitarian functions: as a pastime to provide distraction and entertainment, or as a heightened activity that would claim to explore 'great truths' about the human condition.
Ai pus nitroglicerinÄ sub perna lui dumnezeu ...
Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.
Surrealism - in particular with Salvador Dali - was all about ego. It was all about extreme individualism.