André Breton Quotes

My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.

Keep reminding yourself that literature is one of the saddest roads that leads to everything.

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.

Life’s greatest gift is the freedom it leaves you to step out of it whenever you choose.

We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.

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.

Tell me whom you haunt and I’ll tell you who you are.

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

Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all.

What is admirable about the fantastic is that there is no longer anything fantastic: there is only the real.

The imaginary is what tends to become real.

Humor (is) the process that allows one to brush reality aside when it gets too distressing.

The lamentable expression: 'But it was only a dream", the increasing use of which - among others in the domain of the cinema - has contributed not a little to encourage such hypocrisy, has for a long while ceased to merit discussion.

Nothing that surrounds us is object, all is subject.

The man who cannot visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.

(speaking of Ann Radcliffe) A work of art worthy of the name is one which gives us back the freshness of the emotions of childhood.

I am the soul in limbo.

Past and future monopolize the poet’s sensory and intellectual faculties, detached from the immediate spectacle. These two philtres become utterly clear the moment one stops being hypnotized by the cloudy precipitate constituted by the world of today.

It is hard not to see into the future, faced with today's blind architecture - a thousand times more stupid and more revolting than that of other ages. How bored we shall be inside!