There are strange flowers of reason to match each error of the senses. Admirable gardens of absurd beliefs, forebodings, obsessions and frenzies. Unknown, ever-changing gods take shape there.

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Language was not given to man: he seized it.

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Can the knowledge deriving from reason even begin to compare with knowledge perceptible by sense?

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There are other relations besides reality, which the mind is capable of grasping and which also are primary, like chance, illusion, the fantastic, the dream.

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Reality is the apparent absence of contradiction. The marvelous is the eruption of contradiction within the real.

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Geniuses are like ocean liners: they should never meet.

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We know that the nature of genius is to provide idiots with ideas twenty years later.

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For each man there awaits a particular image capable of annihilating the entire universe.

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There are strange flowers of reason to match each error of the senses.

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Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.

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