Squander your riches far from this unfeeling body to which no season, either spiritual or sensual, makes any difference.
ANTONIN ARTAUDSquander your riches far from this unfeeling body to which no season, either spiritual or sensual, makes any difference.
More Antonin Artaud Quotes
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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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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.
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Actors are athletes of the heart.
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I am adding another language to the spoken language, and I am trying to restore to the language of speech its old magic, its essential spellbinding power, for its mysterious possibilities have been forgotten.
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Destroy 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.
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Don’t tire yourself more than need be, even at the price of founding a culture on the fatigue of your bones.
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If our life lacks a constant magic it is because we choose to observe our acts and lose ourselves in consideration of their imagined form and meaning, instead of being impelled by their force.
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Those who live, live off the dead.
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The actor is merely a crude empiricist, a practitioner guided by vague instinct.
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The truth of life lies in the impulsiveness of matter. The mind of man has been poisoned by concepts. Do not ask him to be content, ask him only to be calm, to believe that he has found his place. But only the madman is really calm.
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Poetry is a dissociating and anarchic force which through analogy, associations and imagery, thrives on the destruction of known relationships.
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When we speak the word ‘life,’ it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach.
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I 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.
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Excuse my absolute freedom. I refuse to make a distinction between any of the moments of myself.
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I cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself.
ANTONIN ARTAUD