Words Have Finished Flirting. Now They Are

Let Us Not Mince Words: The Marvelous Is Always Beautiful, Anything Marvelous Is Beautiful, In Fact Only The Marvelous Is Beautiful.

Psychic Automatism In Its Pure State, By Which One Proposes To Express - Verbally, By Means Of The Written Word, Or In Any Other Manner - The Actual Functioning Of Thought. Dictated By The Thought, In The Absence Of Any Control Exercised By Reason, Exempt From Any Aesthetic Or Moral Concern.

Nothing That Surrounds Us Is Object, All Is Subject.

The Mind Which Plunges Into Surrealism, Relives With Burning Excitement The Best Part Of Childhood.

The Eye Is Not Open When It Is Limited To The Passive Role Of A Mirror... If It Has Only The Capacity To Reflect.