I would like to write a Book which would drive men mad, which would be like an open door leading them where they would never have consented to go, in short, a door that opens onto reality.
ANTONIN ARTAUDLeave the caves of being. Come. The mind breathes outside the mind. The time has come to abandon your lodgings. Surrender to the Universal Thought. The Marvelous is at the root of the mind.
More Antonin Artaud Quotes
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There are those who go to the theatre as they would go to a brothel.
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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.
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Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others.
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No one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or invented except literally to get out of hell.
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I do not like detached creation. Neither can I conceive of the mind as detached from itself. Each of my works, each diagram of myself, each glacial flowering of my inmost soul dribbles over me.
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If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again.
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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.
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I abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.
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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.
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With society and its public, there is no longer any other language than that of bombs, barricades, and all that follows.
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I cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself.
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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.
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When I think about myself, my thought seeks itself in the ether of a new space. I am on the moon as others are on their balconies. I participate in planetary gravitation in the fissures of my mind.
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This is why true beauty never strikes us directly. The setting sun is beautiful because of all it makes us lose.
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And if there is still one hellish, truly accursed thing in our time, it is our artistic dallying with forms, instead of being like victims burnt at the stake, signaling through the flames.
ANTONIN ARTAUD






