Each Of Us Has His Own Rhythm

Contemporary Poetry ... Tries To Transform The Sign Back Into Meaning: Its Ideal, Ultimately, Would Be To Reach Not The Meaning Of Words, But The Meaning Of Things Themselves. This Is Why It Clouds The Language, Increases As Much As It Can The Abstractness Of The Concept And The Arbitrariness Of The Sign And Stretches To The Limit The Link Between Signifier And Signified.

All Those Young Photographers Who Are At Work In The World, Determined Upon The Capture Of Actuality, Do Not Know That They Are Agents Of Death.

Literature Can No Longer Be Either Mimesis Or Mathesis But Merely Semiosis, The Adventure Of What Is Impossible To Language, In A Word: Text (it Is Wrong To Say That The Notion Of 'text' Repeats The Notion Of 'literature': Literature Represents A Finite World, The Text Figures The Infinite Of Language).

Tout Refus Du Langage Est Une Mort. Any Refusal Of Language Is A Death.

A Picture Is Never Anything But Its Own Plural Description.