Poetry is indispensable – if I only knew what for.
JEAN COCTEAUWhat the public criticizes in you, cultivate. It is you.
More Jean Cocteau Quotes
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Elegance ceases to exist when it is noticed.
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The eyes of the dead are closed gently; we also have to open gently the eyes of the living.
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The job of the poet (a job which can’t be learned) consists of placing those objects of the visible world which have become invisible due to the glue of habit, in an unusual position which strikes the soul and gives them a tragic force.
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The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
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It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.
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I’ve always preferred mythology to history. History is truth that becomes an illusion. Mythology is an illusion that becomes reality.
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All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
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I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love.
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Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.
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Every day in the mirror I watch death at work.
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The prettiest dresses are worn to be taken off.
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The poet, by composing poems, uses a language that is neither dead nor living, that few people speak, and few people understand We are the servants of an unknown force that lives within us, manipulates us, and dictates this language to us.
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If it has to choose who is to be crucified, the crowd will always save Barabbas.
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Do as the beautiful woman: see to your figure and your petticoats. Though, of course, I am not speaking literally.
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Living is a horizontal fall.
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We are in a period of such individualism that one no longer speaks of disciples; one speaks of thieves.
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Poetry is a religion with no hope.
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Silence moves faster when it’s going backward.
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Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.
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Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.
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The speed of a runaway horse counts for nothing.
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Lying is the only art form that the public sanctions and instinctively prefers to reality.
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I know that poetry is indispensable, but to what I could not say.
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There’s no such thing as love; only proof of love.
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Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don’t like – then cultivate it. That’s the only part of your work that’s individual and worth keeping.
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I feel myself inhabited by a force or being — very little known to me. It gives the orders; I follow.
JEAN COCTEAU