3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Everything one does in life, even love, occurs in an express train racing toward death. To smoke opium is to get out of the train while it is still moving. It is to concern oneself with something other than life or death.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau I love cats because I enjoy my home and little by little, they become its visible soul.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau I have lost my seven best friends, which is to say God has had mercy on me seven times without realizing it. He lent a friendship, took it from me, sent me another.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau The instinct of nearly all societies is to lock up anybody who is truly free. First, society begins by trying to beat you up. If this fails, they try to poison you. If this fails too, the finish by loading honors on your head.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Art produces ugly things which frequently become more beautiful with time. Fashion, on the other hand, produces beautiful things which always become ugly with time.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau You’ve never seen death? Look in the mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication: that is why so many bad artists are unable to give it up.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one’s preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizarre which seems inherent in them.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don’t like?
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau I believe in luck: how else can you explain the success of those you dislike?
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Film will only became an art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper.
3 December 2020 Jean Cocteau Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.
