I am not strange. I am just not normal.
Do not strive to be a modern artist: it's the one thing, unfortunately, you can't help being.
I do not believe in my death.
Sometimes I spit on my mother's portrait for pleasure.
Democratic governments are not suited to the publication of the thunderous revelations I am in the habit of making. The unpublished parts will appear later... when Europe will have restored its traditional monarchies.
Whatever happens, my audience mustn't know whether I am spoofing or being serious; and likewise I mustn't know either. I am in a constant interrogation; when does the deep and philosophically valid Dali begin, and where does the looney and preposterous Dali end?