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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.
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
Dead
Runner
Attitude
Photographers
Living
Runners
Lost
Attitudes
Reality
Stopped
Photographer
Violent
Balance
Froze
More quotes by Jean Cocteau
Art produces ugly things which frequently become beautiful with time.
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Compromise yourself. Obscure your own trail.
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The audience bursts into laughter. With the tragic gag I don't expect the audience to laugh (if they do, I have failed) but I expect a black silence from them that is almost as violent: as laughter.
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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.
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The poet doesn't invent. He listens.
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Lack of manners is the sign of a hero.
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Poetry is a religion without hope, but its martyrs guarantee the eternal truth of its dogma.
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Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.
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I love cats because I enjoy my home and little by little, they become its visible soul.
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Youth can only assert itself through the conviction that its ventures surpass all others and resemble nothing.
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The cinema is death at work.
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The speed of a runaway horse counts for nothing.
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Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for.
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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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Without opium, plans, marriages and journeys appear to me just as foolish as if someone falling out of a window were to hope to make friends with the occupants of the room before which he passes.
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Never do what a specialist can do better. Discover your own specialty. Do not despair if your specialty appears to be more delicate, a lesser thing. Make up in finesse what you lose in force.
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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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In Paris, everybody wants to be an actor nobody is content to be a spectator.
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The greatest masterpiece in literature is only a dictionary out of order.
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What is style? For many people, a very complicated way of saying very simple things. According to us, a very simple way of saying very complicated things.
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