Keep reminding yourself that literature is one of the saddest roads that leads to everything.

The simplest Surrealist act consists of dashing down the street, pistol in hand, and firing blindly, as fast as you can pull the trigger, into the crowd. Anyone who, at least once in his life, has not dreamed of thus putting an end to the petty system of debasement and cretinization in effect has a well-defined place in that crowd with his belly at barrel-level.

We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.

Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.

When will the arbitrary be granted the place it deserves in the formation of works and ideas?

It is the whole modern concept of love which should be re-examined, such as is commonly but transparently expressed in phrases like 'love at first sight' and 'honeymoon'. All this shoddy terminology is on top of that tainted with the most reactionary irony.

...with the end of my breath, which is the beginning of yours.