[David] Maraniss sees [Barack] Obama as a man with “a moviegoer’s or writer’s sensibility, where he is both participating and observing himself participating, and views much of the political process as ridiculous or surreal, even...

Reside en una iluminación profana, en una inspiración materialista, antropológica,para la que el hachís, el opio, o lo que sea, puede representar la escuelapreparatoria.

I still love the sound of breaking,the tearing of the page

Equally, the surrealists consider words as witnesses of life acting in a direct way in human affairs. To use words properly it was necessary to treat them with respect, for they were the intermediaries between...

I find out a lot about myself by sleeping. Dreams, they are who I am when I’m too tired to be me.

Now the night’s breath responds to the sea, which I can scarcely hear from here, as it reminisces about its shipwrecks.

There is no use being alive if one must work. The event from which each of us is entitled to expect the revelation of his own life’s meaning – that event which I may not...

Back in our apartment, lights out, The Professor emerged from beneath the bed.” – from “The Professor Spends the Night,” in issue 4 of Literary Orphans

I moved in front of the medicine cabinet. If I looked in the mirror while I did it, it would be like watching somebody else, in a book or a play.

There are easier ways of making sense,the connoisseurship of gesture, for example.You hold a girl’s face in your hands like a vase.You lift a gun from the glove compartmentand toss it out the window into...

By giving words the latitude she does, (Marianne) Van Hirtum emphasizes their contagious qualities: they become almost like viruses, with which it is necessary to put oneself in harmony by sympathetic magic if one is...

I love like an albino. But I don’t want to get sunburned, so would you please pass the ketchup?

I gazed upon the earth and saw that a body, in its tender faithlessness, had located it in the sky. A splendid scarf of blood, looming above the abyss.

There are fairy stories to be written for adults. Stories that are still in a green state.

Dive again and again into the river of uncertainty. Create in the dark, only then can you recognize the light.

La Courbe de tes yeuxLa courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur,Un rond de danse et de douceur,Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr,Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que...

We can sum up the surrealist distinction between ‘literature’ and ‘poetry’ by saying where the former is artificial, fictive and elusive, the latter is natural, real, direct and spontaneous.

Several people toss and turn in their sleep, startled by the lines of the newspapers in their dreams, knives out, lights out, lights out, knives out!

This place has only three exits, sir: Madness, and Death.

We are in front of a fountain, whose jet she seems to be watching. ‘Those are your thoughts and mine. Look where they all start from, how high they reach, and then how it’s still...

I try to apply colors like words that shape poems, like notes that shape music.

La terre est bleueLa terre est bleue comme une orangeJamais une erreur les mots ne mentent pasIls ne vous donnent plus à chanterAu tour des baisers de s’entendreLes fous et les amoursElle sa bouche d’allianceTous...

A constant human error: to believe in an end to one’s fantasies. Our daydreams are the measure of our unreachable truth. The secret of all things lies in the emptiness of the formula that guard...

Surrealism, then, neither aims to subvert realism, as does the fantastic, nor does it try to transcend it. It looks for different means by which to explore reality itself.

Il faut que l’homme s’évade de cette lice ridicule qu’on lui a faite: le prétendu réel actuel avec la perspective d’un réel futur qui ne vaille guère mieux. Chaque minute pleine porte en elle-même la...

Cubism is a Cathedral of shit.

I Was Trained to See Shadows”, in his poetry book SALTY AS A LIP:] A nice bit of smooth, full-bodied, surreal story telling. I like it.

The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up.

We write the earth we stand upon.

We have come from all the countries of the world and are going to Saintes-Maries de la Mer. Nomads of the enigma, we gather there each year after having carried our mystery through ordinary countryside...