Andre Breton Quotes

When we approached the target at half-past two, we stared silently into a sea of flames such as none of us had ever seen before …. In Belfast, there was not a large number of conflagrations, but just one enormous conflagration …

We shall go wild with fireworks...And they will plunge into the sky and shatter the darkness. We don't have any fireworks that big

I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise--a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames--but still a paradise.

Because I could not stop for death he kindly stopped for me, or paused at least to strike a glancing blow with his sky-blue mouth as he passed.

Black is the color of night. White is the true color of death

A whole tree of lightning stood in the sky. She kept looking out the window, suffused with the warmth from the fire and with the pity and beauty and power of her death. The thunder rolled.

Strange an astrologer should die, without one wonder in the sky.

Sometimes from this hillside just after sunset The rim of the sky takes on a tinge Of the palest green, like the flesh of a cucumber When you peel it carefully.

Again and Again, however, we know the language of love, and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their end: again and again the two of us go out under the ancient trees, make our bed again and again between the flowers, face to face with the skies

The sky itself is the eighth color of the rainbow, spread over the whole sky for us, all the time.

Down in the deep, up in the sky , I see them always, far or nigh, And I shall see them till I die The old familiar faces.

All that was neither a city, nor a church, nor a river, nor color, nor light, nor shadow: it was reverie. For a long time, I remained motionless, letting myself be penetrated gently by this unspeakable ensemble, by the serenity of the sky and the melancholy of the moment. I do not know what was going on in my mind, and I could not express it; it was one of those ineffable moments when one feels something in himself which is going to sleep and something which is awakening.

Leaf! you are so big! How can you change your color, then just fall! As if there were no such thing as integrity!

Her death would leave me scattered, talking to chairs and pillows. Don't let us die, I want to cry out to that fifth-century sky ablaze with mystery and spiral light. Let us both live forever, in sickness and health, feebleminded, doddering, toothless, liver-spotted, dim-sighted, hallucinating. Who decides these things? What is out there? Who are you?

Lord knows why they depict death with wings when death is everywhere.

This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies, thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man? The smallest part of nothing.

Step on a crack , you'll break your mama's back. Step on a stone, you'll end up all alone. Step on a stick, you're bound to get the Sick. Watch where you tread, you'll bring out all the dead. - A common children's playground chant, usually accompanied by jumping rope or clapping.

Beyond the window, some kind of small, black thing shot across the sky. A bird, possibly. Or it might have been someone's soul being blown to the far side of the world.

Terrestrial happiness is of short duration. The brightness of the flame is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its own odors.

I was all set to blow some crap up.

Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret.

time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough

Black is like the silence of the body after death, the close of life.

Racism doesn't know color, death doesn't know age, and pain doesn't know might.

Thus each of us had to be content to live only for the day, alone under the vast indifference of the sky.