Love is when you meet someone who tells you something new about yourself.
By: Andre Breton
All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.
Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Natures chief masterpiece is writing well.
Words make love with one another.
No one who has lived even for a fleeting moment for something other than life in its conventional sense and has experienced the exaltation that this feeling produces can then renounce his new freedom so easily.
Nothing retains less of desire in art, in science, than this will to industry, booty, possession.
It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.
If I place love above everything, it is because for me it is the most desperate, the most despairing state of affairs imaginable.
No rules exist, and examples are simply life-savers answering the appeals of rules making vain attempts to exist.
There is nothing with which it is so dangerous to take liberties as liberty itself.
What one hides is worth neither more nor less than what one finds. And what one hides from oneself is worth neither more nor less than what one allows others to find.
Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.
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