My poor life This shawl Frayed on strongboxes full of gold I roll along with Dream And smoke And the only flame in the universe
Without the help of selfishness, the human animal would never have developed. Egoism is the vine by which man hoisted himself out of the swamp and es… - Blaise Cendrars
Without the help of selfishness, the human animal would never have developed. Egoism is the vine by which man hoisted himself out of the swamp and es…
- Blaise Cendrars
Humanity lives in its fiction. - Blaise Cendrars
Humanity lives in its fiction.
For action, whatever its immediate purpose, also implies relief at doing something, anything, and the joy of exertion. This is the optimism that is i… - Blaise Cendrars
For action, whatever its immediate purpose, also implies relief at doing something, anything, and the joy of exertion. This is the optimism that is i…
Life The machine The human soul A 75mm breech My portrait - Blaise Cendrars
Life The machine The human soul A 75mm breech My portrait
I used the word 'prose' in the Trans-Siberian in the early Latin sense of prosa dictu. Poem seemed to me too pretentious, too narrow. Prose is more o… - Blaise Cendrars
I used the word 'prose' in the Trans-Siberian in the early Latin sense of prosa dictu. Poem seemed to me too pretentious, too narrow. Prose is more o…
Writing is a noble privilege compared with the lot of most people, who live like parts of a machine, who live only to keep the gears of society point… - Blaise Cendrars
Writing is a noble privilege compared with the lot of most people, who live like parts of a machine, who live only to keep the gears of society point…
Photogenic is a stupid, nonsensical word, but it is also a great mystery. - Blaise Cendrars
Photogenic is a stupid, nonsensical word, but it is also a great mystery.
I'm not an extraordinary worker, I'm an extraordinary daydreamer. I exceed all my fantasies-even that of writing. - Blaise Cendrars
I'm not an extraordinary worker, I'm an extraordinary daydreamer. I exceed all my fantasies-even that of writing.
A mud-stained sunlight began to splatter the sodden fields, and the hateful, nasal world of birds began to come to life. It seemed to me that I was c… - Blaise Cendrars
A mud-stained sunlight began to splatter the sodden fields, and the hateful, nasal world of birds began to come to life. It seemed to me that I was c…
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