Come to the edge.’ ‘We can’t. We’re afraid.’ ‘Come to the edge.’ ‘We can’t. We will fall!’ ‘Come to the edge.’ And they came. And he pushed them. And they flew.
Geometry is to the plastic arts what grammar is to the art of the writer.
When man wanted to make a machine that would walk he created the wheel, which does not resemble a leg.
Without artists, the order which we find in nature, and which is only an effect of art, would at once vanish.
One can’t carry one’s father’s corpse about everywhere.
The plastic virtues: purity, unity, and truth, keep nature in subjection.
When man resolved to imitate walking, he invented the wheel, which does not look like a leg. In doing this, he was practicing surrealism without knowing it.
Vienne la nuit sonne l’heureLes jours s’en vont je demeure
Joy came always after pain.
I don’t want to work. I want to smoke.
Without artists, the sublime idea men have of the universe would collapse with dizzying speed.
It’s raining my soul, it’s raining, but it’s raining dead eyes.
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