The joy of youth is to disobey; but the trouble is that there are no longer any orders. – Jean Cocteau
The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. – Jean Cocteau
The joy of youth is to disobey; but the trouble is that there are no longer any orders. – Jean Cocteau
The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. – Jean Cocteau
A car can massage organs which no masseur can reach. It is the one remedy for the disorders of the great sympathetic nervous system. – Jean Cocteau
A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses. – Jean Cocteau