Quotes and anectdotes from the wise to the foolish, and the courageous to the drunk

Jean Cocteau Novelist

  • Gender: Male
  • Citizenship: France
  • Born: Jul 5, 1889
  • Died: Oct 11, 1963

Jean Maurice Eugène Clément Cocteau was a French writer, designer, playwright, artist and filmmaker. Cocteau is best known for his novel Les Enfants Terribles, and the films Blood of a Poet, Les Parents Terribles, Beauty and the Beast and Orpheus. His circle of associates, friends and lovers included Kenneth Anger, Pablo Picasso, Jean Hugo, Jean Marais, Henri Bernstein, Yul Brynner, Marlene Dietrich, Coco Chanel, Erik Satie, Igor Stravinsky, María Félix, Édith Piaf, Panama Al Brown, Colette and Raymond Radiguet.

After the writer's death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter. death

Art is not a pastime but a priesthood. art

The extreme limit of wisdom, that's what the public calls madness. wisdom

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it. good & music

Film will only became an art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper. art

I love cats because I enjoy my home and little by little, they become its visible soul. home, love & pet

Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious. art & marriage

Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie. poetry

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth. poetry & truth

The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication: that is why so many bad artists are unable to give it up. art & success

I believe in luck: how else can you explain the success of those you dislike? success

The poet doesn't invent. He listens. poetry

You've never seen death? Look in the mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive. death

An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture. art

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead. sad

The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. death

Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live. death

I am a lie who always speaks the truth. truth

Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for. poetry

A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses. poetry

Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. death

Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail. art & work

A film is a petrified fountain of thought. movies

We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like? success