The I Is Always In The Field

I Identify Myself In Language, But Only By Losing Myself In It Like An Object. What Is Realised In My History Is Not The Past Definite Of What Was, Since It Is No More, Or Even The Present Perfect Of What Has Been In What I Am, But The Future Anterior Of What I Shall Have Been For What I Am In The Process Of Becoming.

What Does It Matter How Many Lovers You Have If None Of Them Gives You The Universe?

The Best Image To Sum Up The Unconscious Is Baltimore In The Early Morning.

For The Signifier Is A Unit In Its Very Uniqueness, Being By Nature Symbol Only Of An Absence.

Writings Scatter To The Winds Blank Checks In An Insane Charge. And Were They Not Such Flying Leaves, There Would Be No Purloined Letters.