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The joy of the young is to disobey
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
Joy
Young
Disobey
Youth
More quotes by Jean Cocteau
I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.
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It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.
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The runner stopped dead, lost his balance, froze in one of those violent attitudes in which the photographers petrify living reality.
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What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show.
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The worst tragedy for a poet is to be admired through being misunderstood.
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A prig always finds a last refuge in responsibility.
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What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show. Jacques felt himself growing gloomy again. He was well aware that to live on earth a man must follow its fashions, and hearts were no longer worn.
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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.
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Celebrity: I picture myself as a marble bust with legs to run everywhere.
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The course of a river is almost always disapproved of by the source.
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The cinema is death at work.
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He has the manner of a giant with the look of a child, a lazy activeness, a mad wisdom, a solitude encompassing the world.
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one should always talk well about oneself! The word spreads around and in the end, noone remembers where it started
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Alas! I do not believe that inspiration falls from heaven. think it rather the result of a profound indolence.
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Appreciation of art is a moral erection, otherwise mere dilettantism.
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Poetry, being elegance itself, cannot hope to achieve visibility... It insists on living its own life.
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Understand that some of your enemies are amongst your best friends.
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History is a combination of reality and lies. The reality of History becomes a lie. The unreality of the fable becomes the truth.
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True realism consists in revealing the surprising things which habit keeps covered and prevents us from seeing.
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Every day in the mirror I watch death at work.
Jean Cocteau