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The world owes its enchantment to these curious creatures and their fancies but its multiple complicity rejects them. Thistledown spirits, tragic, heartrending in their evanescence, they must go blowing headlong to perdition.
Jean Cocteau
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Jean Cocteau
Age: 74 †
Born: 1889
Born: July 5
Died: 1963
Died: October 11
Actor
Composer
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Film Director
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Librettist
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Painter
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Poet
Postage Stamp Designer
Prosaist
Clément Eugène Jean Pierre Cocteau
Zhan Kokto
Eugène Jean Maurice Cocteau
Eugene Jean Maurice Cocteau
Jean Cocteau
Tragic
Fancies
Fancy
Complicity
Curious
Enchantment
Creatures
Owes
Spirit
Blowing
Must
Spirits
Evanescence
World
Rejects
Headlong
Multiple
Perdition
More quotes by Jean Cocteau
Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don't like - then cultivate it. That's the only part of your work that's individual and worth keeping.
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It seems to me that invisibility is the required provision of elegance. Elegance ceases to exist when it is noticed.
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Appreciation of art is a moral erection, otherwise mere dilettantism.
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There's no such thing as love only proof of love.
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It is not inspiration it is expiration.
Jean Cocteau
The worst tragedy for a poet is to be admired through being misunderstood.
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Alas! I do not believe that inspiration falls from heaven. think it rather the result of a profound indolence.
Jean Cocteau
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.
Jean Cocteau
I know that poetry is indispensable, but to what I could not say.
Jean Cocteau
A prig always finds a last refuge in responsibility.
Jean Cocteau
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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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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Perhaps I know to what extent I can go too far.
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Poetry is a religion without hope. The poet exhausts himself in its service, knowing that, in the long run, a masterpiece is nothing but the performance of a trained dog on very shaky ground.
Jean Cocteau
The art of genius is knowing how far out is too far.
Jean Cocteau
And history becomes legend and legend becomes history.
Jean Cocteau
The poet is at the disposal of the night. His role is humble, he must clean house and await its due visitation.
Jean Cocteau
The joy of youth is to disobey but the trouble is that there are no longer any orders.
Jean Cocteau
Statues to great men are made of the stones thrown at them in their lifetime.
Jean Cocteau
The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.
Jean Cocteau