I Still Forget, Sometimes, That I Am

Since The Death Instinct Exists In The Heart Of Everything That Lives, Since We Suffer From Trying To Repress It, Since Everything That Lives Longs For Rest, Let Us Unfasten The Ties That Bind Us To Life, Let Us Cultivate Our Death Wish, Let Us Develop It, Water It Like A Plant, Let It Grow Unhindered. Suffering And Fear Are Born From The Repression Of The Death Wish.

A Work Of Art Is Above All An Adventure Of The Mind.

Realism Falls Short Of Reality. It Shrinks It, Attenuates It, Falsifies It; It Does Not Take Into Account Our Basic Truths And Our Fundamental Obsessions: Love, Death, Astonishment. It Presents Man In A Reduced And Estranged Perspective. Truth Is In Our Dreams, In The Imagination.

Many People Have Delusions Of Grandeur But You're Deluded By Triviality.

An Avant-garde Man Is Like An Enemy Inside A City He Is Bent On Destroying, Against Which He Rebels; For Like Any System Of Government, An Established Form Of Expression Is Also A Form Of Oppression. The Avant-garde Man Is The Opponent Of An Existing System.