Quote

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.

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
Death
Friendly
Displayed
Order
Invisible
Weep
Hands
Grief
Chamber
Men
Bird
Advanced
Fields
Realm
Stairways
Dead
Realms
Chambers
Secret
Soft
Folded
Within
Birds
Descended

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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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on him, under him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he sang to her uncouth songs that moved through her body.
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When we see life, we call it beautiful. When we see death, we call it ugly. But it is more beautiful still to see oneself living at great speed, right up to the moment of death.
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What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born.
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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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Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all.
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Worse than not realizing the dreams of your youth, would be to have been young and never dreamed at all.
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My heart's in my hand, and my hand is pierced, and my hand's in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught.
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The vaporish cocaine loosens the contours of their lives and sets their bodies adrift, and so they are untouchable.
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I'm homosexual. How and why are idle questions. It's a little like wanting to know why my eyes are green.
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Perhaps all music, even the newest, is not so much something discovered as something that re-emerges from where it lay buried in the memory, inaudible as a melody cut in a disc of flesh. A composer lets me hear a song that has always been shut up silent within me.
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Every premeditated murder is always governed by a preparatory ceremonial and is always followed by a propitiatory ceremonial. The meaning of both eludes the murderers mind.
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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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Though they may not always be handsome men doomed to evil posses the manly virtues.
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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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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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We know that their adventures are childish. They themselves are fools. They are ready to kill or be killed over a card-game in which an opponent - or they themselves - was cheating. Yet, thanks to such fellows, tragedies are possible.
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It's a true image, born of a false spectacle.
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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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Men endowed with a wild imagination should have, in addition, the great poetic faculty of denying our universe and its values so that they may act upon it with sovereign ease.
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