The Approval Of The Public Is To

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.

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.

I Find It Impossible To Think Of A Picture Save As A Window, And My First Concern About A Window Is To Find Out What It Looks Out On... And There Is Nothing I Love So Much As Something Which Stretches Away From Me Out Of Sight.

The Simplest Act Of Surrealism Is To Walk Out Into The Street, Gun In Hand, And Shoot At Random.

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.