In short, from then on, we accepted our status as prisoners; we were reduced to our past alone and even if a few people were tempted to live in the future, they quickly gave it up, as far as possible, suffering the wounds that the imagination eventually inflicts on those who trust in it.
Without culture, and the relative freedom it implies, society, even when perfect, is but a jungle. This is why any authentic creation is a gift to the future.
My soul's a burden to me, I've had enough of it. I'm eager to be in that country, where the sun kills every question. I don't belong here.
I had the whole sky in my eyes and it was blue and gold.
The only really committed artist is he who, without refusing to take part in the combat, at least refuses to join the regular armies and remains a freelance.
When the time to die comes, it does not matter how and when it happens.