The Dead Drug Leaves A Ghost Behind.

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.

Keep Braiding One's Wavelengths Back Into Oneself. That Way They Gain All The More External Power And Surround Us With A Huge Affective And Protective Zone. Don't Talk About This. Never Talk About Our Secret Methods. If We Talk About Them, They Stop Working.

If An Addict Who Has Been Completely Cured Starts Smoking Again He No Longer Experiences The Discomfort Of His First Addiction. There Exists, Therefore, Outside Alkaloids And Habit, A Sense For Opium, An Intangible Habit Which Lives On, Despite The Recasting Of The Organism. The Dead Drug Leaves A Ghost Behind. At Certain Hours It Haunts The House.

The Poet Paul Éluard Says That To Understand My Film Version Of Beauty And The Beast, You Must Love Your Dog More Than Your Car.

I Love Cats Because I Enjoy My Home; And Little By Little, They Become Its Visible Soul.