Dali is like a man who hesitates between talent and genius, or, as one might once have said, between vice and virtue.
No rules exist, and examples are simply life-savers answering the appeals of rules making vain attempts to exist.
Trust in the inexhaustible character of the murmur.
Words make love with one another.
It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.
At the outset, it is only liking, not understanding, that matters. Gaps in understanding ... are not only important, they are perhaps even welcome, like clearings in the woods, the better to allow the heart's rays to stream out without obstacle. The unlit shadows should remain obscure, which is the very condition of enchantment.
Everything tends to make us believe that there exists a certain point of the mind at which life and death, the real and the imagined, past and future, the communicable and the incommunicable, high and low, cease to be perceived as contradictions.
The approval of the public is to be avoided like the plague. It is absolutely essential to keep the public from entering if one wishes to avoid confusion. I must add that the public must be kept panting in expectation at the gate by a system of challenges and provocations.
To speak of God, to think of God, is in every respect to show what one is made of. I have always wagered against God and I regard the little that I have won in this world as simply the outcome of this bet. However paltry may have been the stake (my life) I am conscious of having won to the full. Everything that is doddering, squint-eyed, vile, polluted and grotesque is summoned up for me in that one word: God!
The invention of photography has dealt a mortal blow to the old modes of expression, in painting as well as in poetry, where automatic writing, which appeared at the end of the nineteenth century, is a true photography of thought. Since a blind instrument now assured artists of achieving the aim they had set themselves up to that time, they now aspired, not without recklessness, to break with the imitation of appearances.
Words have finished flirting. Now they are making love.
The mind which plunges into Surrealism, relives with burning excitement the best part of childhood.
It was in the black mirror of anarchism that surrealism first recognised itself.
All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.
There is no use being alive if one must work. The event from which each of us is entitled to expect the revelation of his own life's meaning - that event which I may not yet have found, but on whose path I seek myself - is not earned by work.
The simplest act of surrealism is to walk out into the street, gun in hand, and shoot at random.
The art of Frida Kahlo is a ribbon around a bomb.
The imaginary is what tends to become real.
I have always been amazed at the way an ordinary observer lends so much more credence and attaches so much more importance to waking events than to those occurring in dreams... Man... is above all the plaything of his memory.
Surrealism is based on the belief in the omnipotence of dreams, in the undirected play of thought.
My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.
Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express - verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner - the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.
Every time you date someone with an issue that you have to work to ignore, you're settling.
Love is when you meet someone who tells you something new about yourself.
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 is based on the belief in the superior reality of certain forms of previously neglected associations, in the omnipotence of dreams, in the disinterested play of thought. It tends to ruin once and for all other psychic mechanisms and to substitute itself for them in solving all the principle problems of life.
When will the arbitrary be granted the place it deserves in the formation of works and ideas?
Surrealism does not allow those who devote themselves to it to forsake it whenever they like. There is every reason to believe that it acts on the mind very much as drugs do; like drugs, it creates a certain state of need and can push man to frightful revolts.
It is impossible for me to envisage a picture as being other than a window, and why my first concern is then to know what it looks out on.
Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.
To reduce the imagination to a state of slavery -even though it would mean the elimination of what is commonly called happiness -is to betray all sense of absolute justice within oneself. Imagination alone offers me some intimation of what can be.
The pure playfulness of certain wholly whimsical portions of (Charles) Cros's work should not obscure the fact that at the center of some of his most beautiful poems a revolver is leveled straight at us.
At the word witch, we imagine the horrible old crones from Macbeth. But the cruel trials witches suffered teach us the opposite. Many perished precisely because they were young and beautiful.
Keep reminding yourself that literature is one of the saddest roads that leads to everything.
The mind, placed before any kind of difficulty, can find an ideal outlet in the absurd. Accommodation to the absurd readmits adults to the mysterious realm inhabited by children.
The purest surrealist act is walking into a crowd with a loaded gun and firing into it randomly
There is nothing with which it is so dangerous to take liberties as liberty itself.
I believe in the pure Surrealist joy of the man who, forewarned that all others before him have failed, refused to admit defeat, sets off from watever point he chooses, along any other pat save a reasonable one, and arrives wherever he can.
We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.