All cats die. Socrates is dead. Therefore Socrates is a cat.

We are made to be immortal, and yet we die. It's horrible, it can't be taken seriously

I have always considered imaginative truth to be more profound, more loaded with significance, than every day reality... Everything we dream about, and by that I mean everything we desire, is true (the myth of Icarus came before aviation, and if Ader or Bleriot started flying it is because all men have dreamed of flight). There is nothing truer than myth... Reality does not have to be: it is simply what is.

The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. When the world seems familiar, when one has got used to existence, one has become an adult.

Language should almost break up or explode in its fruitless effort to contain so many meanings.

Only the ephemeral is of lasting value.

Like all revolutions, the surrealist revolution was a reversion, a restitution, an expression of vital and indispensable spiritual needs.