Grace Is Gratuitous; It Is A Gift.

Tradition Is No Longer A Continuity But A Series Of Sharp Breaks. The Modern Tradition Is The Tradition Of Revolt.

I Thought That The World Was A Vast System Of Signs, A Conversation Between Giant Beings. My Actions, The Cricket's Saw, The Star's Blink, Were Nothing But Pauses And Syllables, Scattered Phrases From That Dialogue. What Word Could It Be, Of Which I Was Only A Syllable? Who Speaks The Word? To Whom Is It Spoken?

My Body, Plowed By Your Body, Will Turn Into A Field Where One Is Sown And A Hundred Reaped.

Erotic Acts Are Instinctive; They Fulfill A Role In Nature. The Idea Is Familiar, But It Is One That Contains A Paradox: There Is Nothing More Natural Than Sexual Desire; There Is Nothing Less Natural Than The Forms In Which It Is Made Manifest And Satisfied.

What Sets Worlds In Motion Is The Interplay Of Differences, Their Attractions And Repulsions. Life Is Plurality, Death Is Uniformity. By Suppressing Differences And Pecularities, By Eliminating Different Civilizations And Cultures, Progress Weakens Life And Favors Death. The Ideal Of A Single Civilization For Everyone, Implicit In The Cult Of Progress And Technique, Impoverishes And Mutilates Us. Every View Of The World That Becomes Extinct, Every Culture That Disappears, Diminishes A Possibility Of Life