One Makes War To Win, Not Because

Waiting Is Directed At Nothing: Any Object That Could Gratify It Would Only Efface It. Still, It Is Not Confined To One Place, It Is Not A Resigned Immobility; It Has The Endurance Of A Movement That Will Never End And Would Never Promise Itself The Reward Of Rest; It Does Not Wrap Itself In Interiority; All Of It Falls Irremediably Outside.

Do Not Ask Who I Am And Do Not Ask Me To Remain The Same. More Than One Person, Doubtless Like Me, Writes In Order To Have No Face.

There Is A Sort Of Myth Of History That Philosophers Have.... History For Philosophers Is Some Sort Of Great, Vast Continuity In Which The Freedom Of Individuals And Economic Or Social Determinations Come And Get Entangled. When Someone Lays A Finger On One Of Those Great Themes--continuity, The Effective Exercise Of Human Liberty, How Individual Liberty Is Articulated With Social Determinations--when Someone Touches One Of These Three Myths, These Good People Start Crying Out That History Is Being Raped Or Murdered.

Thought Is No Longer Theoretical. As Soon As It Functions It Offends Or Reconciles, Attracts Or Repels, Breaks, Dissociates, Unites Or Reunites; It Cannot Help But Liberate Or Enslave. Even Before Prescribing, Suggesting A Future, Saying What Must Be Done, Even Before Exhorting Or Merely Sounding An Alarm, Thought, At The Level Of Its Existence, In Its Very Dawning, Is In Itself An Action-a Perilous Act.

If Repression Has Indeed Been The Fundamental Link Between Power, Knowledge, And Sexuality Since The Classical Age, It Stands To Reason That We Will Not Be Able To Free Ourselves From It Except At A Considerable Cost.