Feelings Are Never True. They Play With

A Woman Spent All Christmas Day In A Telephone Box Without Ringing Anyone. If Someone Comes To Phone, She Leaves The Box, Then Resumes Her Place Afterwards. No One Calls Her Either, But From A Window In The Street, Someone Watched Her All Day, No Doubt Since They Had Nothing Better To Do. The Christmas Syndrome.

Images Have Become Our True Sex Objects. It Is This Promiscuity And The Ubiquity Of Images, This Viral Contamination Of Images Which Are The Fatal Characteristics Of Our Culture.

The Image Is Not A Medium For Which We Have To Find The Proper Use. It Is What It Is And It Is Beyond All Our Moral Considerations. It Is By Its Essence Immoral, And The World's Becoming-image Is An Immoral Process.

What I Am, I Don't Know. I Am The Simulacrum Of Myself.

If You Are Prepared To Accept The Consequences Of Your Dreams Then You Must Still Regard America Today With The Same Naive Enthusiasm As The Generations That Discovered The New World.