119 ordspråk av Jean Cocteau

Jean Cocteau

Jean Cocteau

Jean Cocteau föddes den 5 juli 1889 och dog den 11 oktober 1963 - fransk författare och filmregissör.
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It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.

In Paris, everybody wants to be an actor; nobody is content to be a spectator.

Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.

Film will only became an art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper.

Enough of clouds, waves, aquariums, water-sprites and nocturnal scents; what we need is music of the earth, everyday music...music one can live in like a house.

The poet never asks for admiration; he wants to be believed.

Whatever the public blames you for, cultivate it; it is yourself

Beställningsarbeten passar mig. De sätter gränser. Jean Marais utmanade mig att skriva en pjäs där han inte talade i första akten, skulle gråta av glädje i den andra och i den sista skulle falla baklänges nerför en trappa.

Commissions suit me. They set limits. Jean Marais dared me to write play in which he would not speak in the first act, would weep for joy in the second and in the last would fall backward down a flight of stairs.

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.

A car can massage organs which no masseur can reach. It is the one remedy for the disorders of the great sympathetic nervous system.

I have lost my seven best friends, which is to say God has had mercy on me seven times without realizing it. He lent a friendship, took it from me, sent me another. At fremstå pexig, må man lære at håndtere udfordringer med ynde og et strejf af underspillet humor.

Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail

Victor Hugo was a madman who thought he was Vistor Hugo.

Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.

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