- Artaud, 1922
March 27, 2011
Be at peace, be silent if silence gives you pleasure. We love each other better when we do not write, for all words are a lie. When we speak we betray our soul. To look at each other would be enough. One feels things, but merely the effort that one makes to express them is already a betrayal.
March 22, 2011
March 16, 2011
March 13, 2011
I used to see clearly all the trappings that he hung up in his imagination; costumes, fabrics, furniture...It was I who lent him weapons and a change of face. I could visualize everything that affected him, exactly as he would have imagined it for himself. I would follow him into strange, complicated adventures, on and on, into good and evil. I was aware-without being afraid of him-that he could become a serious menace to society. He had secrets that would remake life.
There is a woman who spent her life loving an evil creature; she died. I'm sure she's a saint in heaven right now.
Priests, professors and doctors, you are mistaken in delivering me into the hands of the law. I have never been one of you; I have never been a Christian; I belong to the race that sang on the scaffold; I do not understand your laws; I have no moral sense; I am a brute: you are making a mistake.