The Simplest Surrealist Act Consists Of Dashing

The Art Of Frida Kahlo Is A Ribbon Around A Bomb.

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.

How I Loathe The Servitude People Try To Hold Up To Me As Being So Valuable. I Pity The Man Who Is Condemned To It, Who Cannot Generally Escape It, But It Is Not The Burden Of His Labor That Disposes Me In His Favor, It Is - It Can Only Be - The Vigor Of His Protest Against It.

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.

The Mere Word Freedom Is The Only One That Still Excites Me. I Deem It Capable Of Indefinitely Sustaining The Old Human Fanaticism. It Doubtless Satisfies My Only Legitimate Aspiration. Among All The Many Misfortunes To Which We Are Heir, It Is Only Fair To Admit That We Are Allowed The Greatest Degree Of Freedom Of Thought. It Is Up To Us Not To Misuse It. 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.