The poet doesnt invent. He listens. – Jean Cocteau
The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. – Jean Cocteau
The poet doesnt invent. He listens. – Jean Cocteau
The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. – Jean Cocteau
Tact in audacity consists in knowing how far we may go too far. – Jean Cocteau
Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie. – Jean Cocteau