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.
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.
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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We do not die because we have to die; we die because one day, and not so long ago, our consciousness was forced to deem it necessary.
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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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Excuse my absolute freedom. I refuse to make a distinction between any of the moments of myself.
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The 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.
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I do not work within the confines of any realm. I work in the unique moment of duration.
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I call for actors burning at the stakes, laughing at the flames.
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I abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.
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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.
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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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The actor is an athlete of the heart.
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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.
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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 cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself.
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The actor is merely a crude empiricist, a practitioner guided by vague instinct.
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Life consists of burning up questions.
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Admittedly or not, conscious or unconscious, the poetic state, a transcendent experience of life, is what the public is fundamentally seeking through love, crime, drugs, war, or insurrection.
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I myself am an absolute abyss.
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Hell is of this world and there are men who are unhappy escapees from hell, escapees destined ETERNALLY to reenact their escape.
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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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If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again.
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Leave 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.
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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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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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Squander your riches far from this unfeeling body to which no season, either spiritual or sensual, makes any difference.
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Cruelty signifies rigor, implacable intention and decision, irreversible and absolute determination.
ANTONIN ARTAUD