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Every day in the mirror I watch death at work.

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Day Death Mirror Myself Work

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Every day in the mirror I watch death at work.
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Day Death Mirror Myself Work
The extreme limit of wisdom, that’s what the public calls madness.
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Call Limitation Public Wisdom
The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication: that is why so many bad artists are unable to give it up.
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We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don’t like?
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After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.
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Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.
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A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.
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An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.
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Do as the beautiful woman: see to your figure and your petticoats. Though, of course, I am not speaking literally.
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Whatever the world condemns you for, make it your own. It is yourself.
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It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.
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Living is a horizontal fall.
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Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what’s known as infinity.
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One must not mistake majority for truth.
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You’ve never seen death? Look in the mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive.
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I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.
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