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Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.
Jean Cocteau
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Jean Cocteau
Age: 74 †
Born: 1889
Born: July 5
Died: 1963
Died: October 11
Actor
Composer
Designer
Film Director
Illustrator
Librettist
Novelist
Painter
Photographer
Playwright
Poet
Postage Stamp Designer
Prosaist
Clément Eugène Jean Pierre Cocteau
Zhan Kokto
Eugène Jean Maurice Cocteau
Eugene Jean Maurice Cocteau
Jean Cocteau
Walk
Walks
Since
Hurrying
Death
Began
Without
Toward
Birth
Walking
Dying
More quotes by Jean Cocteau
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.
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A prig always finds a last refuge in responsibility.
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Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for.
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French people are Italian people in a bad mood.
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Art produces ugly things which frequently become beautiful with time.
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Watch yourself all your life in a mirror and you'll see Death at work like bees in a glass hive.
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And now I have to confess the unpardonable and the scandalous. I am a happy man. And I am going to tell you the secret of my happiness. It is quite simple. I love mankind. I love love. I hate hate. I try to understand and accept.
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Inspiration arrived as a result of profound indolence... I awoke with a start and witnessed as from a seat in a theatre, three acts of a potentially awesome play.
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Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.
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The ability to laugh heartily is the sign of a healthy soul.
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Perhaps I know to what extent I can go too far.
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The composer opens the cage door for arithmetic, the draftsman gives geometry its freedom.
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The poet never asks for admiration he wants to be believed.
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Understand that some of your enemies are amongst your best friends.
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My little Renoirs. Matisse describes having seen Renoir make these tiny canvases. When he had finished working, he would use up the color left in his brushes on them.
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How our old friend [Michelangelo] of the Sistine would have loved to photograph his workers, perched on the fragile planks. Dali was right to say Leonardo only worked from photographs.
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Poetry is a religion without hope, but its martyrs guarantee the eternal truth of its dogma.
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The skin of all of us is responsive to gypsy songs and military marches.
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I feel myself inhabited by a force or being -- very little known to me. It gives the orders I follow.
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Expect neither reward nor beatitude. Return noble waves for ignoble.
Jean Cocteau