Un país en donde no se comprende el arte es un país de esclavos o de robots, un país de gente desdichada, de gente que no ríe ni sonríe, un país sin … - Eugène Ionesco

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Ruptura între ființă și gandire.Gandirea,golită de ființă,se usucă,se vestejește,nu mai e gandire.Într-adevăr,gandirea e expresia ființei,coincide cu ființa.Poți vorbi fără să gandești.Pentru asta avem la dispoziție clișeele,adică automatismele.Gandirea adevărată nu poate fi decat vie.

Another syllogism. All cats die. Socrates is dead. Therefore Socrates is a cat.

The most implacable enemies of culture — Rimbaud, Lautréamont, dadaism, surrealism — end up being assimilated and absorbed by it. They all wanted to destroy culture, at least organized culture, and now they’re part of our heritage. It’s culture and not the bourgeoisie, as has been alleged, that is capable of absorbing everything for its own nourishment. As for the oneiric element, that is due partly to surrealism, but to a larger extent due to personal taste and to Romanian folklore — werewolves and magical practices. For example, when someone is dying, women surround him and chant, “Be careful! Don’t tarry on the way! Don’t be afraid of the wolf; it is not a real wolf!”—exactly as in Exit the King. They do that so the dead man won’t stay in infernal regions.