The extreme limit of wisdom, that's what the public calls madness.
A prig always finds a last refuge in responsibility.
I am a lie who always speaks the truth.
The Louvre is like the morgue; one goes there to identify one’s friends.
Poets don’t draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.
True realism consists in revealing the surprising things which habit keeps covered and prevents us from seeing.
Wealth is an inborn attitude of mind, like poverty. The pauper who has made his pile may flaunt his spoils, but cannot wear them plausibly.
One of the characteristics of the dream is that nothing surprises us in it. With no regret, we agree to live in it with strangers, completely cut off from our habits and friends.
What is line? It is life. A line must live at each point along its course in such a way that the artist’s presence makes itself felt above that of the model... With the writer, line takes precedence over form and content. It runs through the words he assembles. It strikes a continuous note unperceived by ear or eye. It is, in a way, the soul’s style, and if the line ceases to have a life of its own, if it only describes an arabesque, the soul is missing and the writing dies.