Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what’s known as infinity.
JEAN COCTEAUHere I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live.
More Jean Cocteau Quotes
-
-
And now I have to confess the unpardonable and the scandalous. I am a happy man. And I am going to tell you the secret of my happiness. It is quite simple. I love mankind. I love love. I hate hate. I try to understand and accept.
JEAN COCTEAU -
I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.
JEAN COCTEAU -
If a poet has a dream, it is not of becoming famous, but of being believed.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Lying is the only art form that the public sanctions and instinctively prefers to reality.
JEAN COCTEAU -
The only way to kill death is through photography.
JEAN COCTEAU -
When I write, I disturb. When I show a film, I disturb. When I exhibit my painting, I disturb, and I disturb if I don’t. I have a knack for disturbing.
JEAN COCTEAU -
My method is simple: not to bother about poetry. It must come of its own accord. Merely whispering its name drives it away.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Wealth is an inborn attitude of mind, like poverty. The pauper who has made his pile may flaunt his spoils, but cannot wear them plausibly.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Film will only became an art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Poetry, being elegance itself, cannot hope to achieve visibility… It insists on living its own life.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Style is a simple way of saying complicated things.
JEAN COCTEAU -
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.
JEAN COCTEAU -
If it has to choose who is to be crucified, the crowd will always save Barabbas.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Living is a horizontal fall.
JEAN COCTEAU -
Such is the role of poetry. It unveils, in the strict sense of the word. It lays bare, under a light which shakes off torpor, the surprising things which surround us and which our senses record mechanically.
JEAN COCTEAU