L'amoureux Qui N'oublie Pas Quelquefois Meurt Par

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).

Man Does Not Exist Prior To Language, Either As A Species Or As An Individual.

Every Object In The World Can Pass From A Closed, Silent Existence To An Oral State, Open To Appropriation By Society, For There Is No Law, Whether Natural Or Not, Which Forbids Talking About Things

It Is As If The Photograph Always Carries Its Referent With Itself, Both Affected By The Same Amorous Or Funereal Immobility, At The Very Heart Of The Moving World: They Are Glued Together, Limb By Limb, Like The Condemned Man And The Corpse In Certain Tortures; Or Even Like Those Pairs Of Fish (sharks, I Think, According To Michelet) Which Navigate In Convoy, As Though United By An Eternal Coitus.

We Know That The War Against Intelligence Is Always Waged In The Name Of Common Sense.