Beauty Will Be Convulsive Or Will Not

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!

Surrealism Will Usher You Into Death, Which Is A Secret Society. It Will Glove Your Hand, Burying Therein The Profound M With Which The Word Memory Begins. Do Not Forget To Make Proper Arrangements For Your Last Will And Testament: Speaking Personally, I Ask That I Be Taken To The Cemetery In A Moving Van. May My Friends Destroy Every Last Copy Of The Printing Of The Speech Concerning The Modicum Of Reality.

Love Is When You Meet Someone Who Tells You Something New About Yourself.

A Game: Say Something. Close Your Eyes And Say Something. Anything, A Number, A Name. Like This (she Closes Her Eyes): Two, Two What? Two Women. What Do They Look Like? Wearing Black. Where Are They? In A Park. . . . And Then, What Are They Doing? Try It, It's So Easy, Why Don't You Want To Play? You Know, That's How I Talk To Myself When I'm Alone, I Tell Myself All Kinds Of Stories. And Not Only Silly Stories: Actually, I Live This Way Altogether.

Beauty Is Like A Train That Ceaselessly Roars Out Of The Gare De Lyon And Which I Know Will Never Leave, Which Has Not Left. It Consists Of Jolts And Shocks, Many Of Which Do Not Have Much Importance, But Which We Know Are Destined To Produce One Shock, Which Does...the Human Heart, Beautiful As A Seismograph...beauty Will Be Convulsive Or Will Not Be At All.