The Eye Is Not Open When It

In The World We Live In Everything Militates In Favor Of Things That Have Not Yet Happened, Of Things That Will Never Happen Again.

The Pure Playfulness Of Certain Wholly Whimsical Portions Of (charles) Cros’s Work Should Not Obscure The Fact That At The Center Of Some Of His Most Beautiful Poems A Revolver Is Leveled Straight At Us.

Nothing Retains Less Of Desire In Art, In Science, Than This Will To Industry, Booty, Possession.

It Is The Whole Modern Concept Of Love Which Should Be Re-examined, Such As Is Commonly But Transparently Expressed In Phrases Like 'love At First Sight' And 'honeymoon'. All This Shoddy Terminology Is On Top Of That Tainted With The Most Reactionary Irony.

The Simplest Act Of Surrealism Is To Walk Out Into The Street, Gun In Hand, And Shoot At Random.