There Are Strange Flowers Of Reason To

Your Imagination, My Dear Fellow, Is Worth More Than You Imagine.

The Vice Named Surrealism Is The Immoderate And Impassioned Use Of The Stupefacient Image Or Rather Of The Uncontrolled Provocation Of The Image For Its Own Sake And For The Element Of Unpredictable Perturbation And Of Metamorphosis Which It Introduces Into The Domain Of Representation; For Each Image On Each Occasion Forces You To Revise The Entire Universe.

What On Earth Is Modern Exegesis Up To? Oh, Little Lazy One! Some Red Wine And Up! Off You Go, Brandishing Your Fork, Stripped Of Ophelia's Useless Ornaments, Fire In Your Large Nostrils, Out To Rake The Muck Of Metaphors.

Fear Of Error Which Everything Recalls To Me At Every Moment Of The Flight Of My Ideas, This Mania For Control, Makes Men Prefer Reason's Imagination To The Imagination Of The Senses. And Yet It Is Always The Imagination Alone Which Is At Work.

The Rose Is Born Evil ... But It Is Pink.