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.
ANTONIN ARTAUDThe 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.
ANTONIN ARTAUDWith society and its public, there is no longer any other language than that of bombs, barricades, and all that follows.
ANTONIN ARTAUDSo 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.
ANTONIN ARTAUDI have need of angels. Enough hell has swallowed me for too many years. But finally understand this–I have burned up one hundred thousand human lives already, from the strength of my pain.
ANTONIN ARTAUDI abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.
ANTONIN ARTAUDI myself am an absolute abyss.
ANTONIN ARTAUDWritten poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others.
ANTONIN ARTAUDYou are quite unnecessary, young man!
ANTONIN ARTAUDThose who live, live off the dead.
ANTONIN ARTAUDI cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself.
ANTONIN ARTAUDThe 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.
ANTONIN ARTAUDIn our present state of degeneration it is through the skin that metaphysics must be made to re-enter our minds.
ANTONIN ARTAUDI 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 ARTAUDActors are athletes of the heart.
ANTONIN ARTAUDA tainted society has invented psychiatry to defend itself against the investigations of certain superior intellects whose faculties of divination would be troublesome.
ANTONIN ARTAUDDestroy yourselves, you who are desperate, and you who are tortured in body and soul, abandon all hope. There is no more solace for you in this world. The world lives off your rotting flesh.
ANTONIN ARTAUD