Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort. – Jean Cocteau
The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. – Jean Cocteau
We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we dont like? – Jean Cocteau
I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead. – Jean Cocteau
The shortest way out of Manchester is notoriously a bottle of Gordons gin; out of any businessmans life there is the mirage of Paris; out of Paris, or mediocrity of talent and imagination, there are all the drugs, from subtle, all-conquering opium to cheating, cozening cocaine. – William Bolitho