#lis

Now the night's breath responds to the sea, which I can scarcely hear from here, as it reminisces about its shipwrecks. ↗

— Joë Bousquet

#sea #surrealism #surreal

The imaginary is what tends to become real. ↗

— André Breton

#imaginattion #reality #surrealism #surreal

The clouds were disappearing rapidly, leaving the stars to die. The night dried up. ↗

— André Breton

#stars #surrealism #surreal

May night continue to fall upon the orchestra ↗

— André Breton

#orchestra #surrealism #surreal

Surrealism, then, neither aims to subvert realism, as does the fantastic, nor does it try to transcend it. It looks for different means by which to explore reality itself. ↗

— Michael Richardson

#fantastique #fantasy #realism #reality #surrealism

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent To blow up the King and Parli’ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England’s overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! ↗

— Alan Moore

#gunpowder #king #november #treason #english

I’m a man of leisure. That’s because I have an English degree and can’t get a job.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#degree #economic-depression #english #job #leisure

We're developing a new citizenry. One that will be very selective about cereals and automobiles, but won't be able to think. ↗

— Rod Serling

#twilight-zone #development

…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing…. ↗

— Bret Easton Ellis

#ellis #commitment

…most of the damage we cause to the planet is the result of our own ignorance. ↗

— Yvon Chouinard

#ignorance #education