Quote

I'm homosexual. How and why are idle questions. It's a little like wanting to know why my eyes are green.

Jean Genet

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Jean Genet
Age: 75 †
Born: 1910
Born: December 19
Died: 1986
Died: April 15
Author
Film Director
Film Editor
Military Personnel
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Paris
France
Questions
Green
Eyes
Eye
Littles
Homosexual
Little
Idle
Like
Wanting
Gay

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If we behave like those on the other side, then we are the other side. Instead of changing the world, all we'll achieve is a reflection of the one we want to destroy.
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In order to weep, I had descended to the realm of the dead themselves, to their secret chambers, led by the invisible but soft hands of birds down stairways which were folded up again as I advanced. I displayed my grief in the friendly fields of death, far from men: within myself.
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The main object of a revolution is the liberation of man... not the interpretation and application of some transcendental ideology.
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Crimes of which a people is ashamed constitute its real history. The same is true of man.
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Betrayal is beautiful.
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Would Hamlet have felt the delicious fascination of suicide if he hadn't had an audience, and lines to speak?
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A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.
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What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born.
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Poetry is the break (or rather the meeting at the breaking point) between the visible and the invisible.
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I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, in the ruthless and the cunning, a deep beauty - a sunken beauty.
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I give the name violence to a boldness lying idle and enamored of danger.
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The despondency that follows makes me feel somewhat like a shipwrecked man who spies a sail, sees himself saved, and suddenly remembers that the lens of his spyglass has a flaw, a blurred spot -- the sail he has seen.
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I wanted to swallow myself by opening my mouth very wide and turning it over my head so that it would take in my whole body, and then the Universe, until all that would remain of me would be a ball of eaten thing which little by little would be annihilated: that is how I see the end of the world.
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I don't want to disappear.
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First of all, don't mix your hairpins up with mine! You .... Oh! All right, mix your muck with mine. Mix it! Mix your rags with my tatters! Mix it all up.
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Power may be at the end of a gun, but sometimes it's also at the end of the shadow or the image of a gun.
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In reviewing my life, in tracing its course, I fill my cell with the pleasure of being what for want of a trifle I failed to be, recapturing, so that I may hurl myself into them as into dark pits, those moments when I strayed through the trap-ridden compartments of a subterranean sky
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By stretching language we'll distort it sufficiently to wrap ourselves in it and hide.
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Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all.
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