It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.
The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up.
For me, the single word "God" suggests everything that is slippery, shady, squalid, foul, and grotesque.
Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
The important thing is that man is lost in time, in the moment that immediately precedes him - which only attests, by reflection, to the fact that he is lost in the moment that follows
Surrealism will usher you into death, which is a secret society. It will glove your hand, burying therein the profound M with which the word Memory begins.