The Text Is Not A Definitive Object.

The Lover's Fatal Identity Is Precisely This: I Am The One Who Waits.

The Photograph Belongs To That Class Of Laminated Objects Whose Two Leaves Cannot Be Separated Without Destroying Them Both: The Windowpane And The Landscape, And Why Not: Good And Evil, Desire And Its Object: Dualities We Can Conceive But Not Perceive... Whatever It Grants To Vision And Whatever Its Manner, A Photograph Is Always Invisible: It Is Not It That We See.

It Must Always Be Considered As Though Spoken By A Character In A Novel

A Photograph Is Always Invisible, It Is Not It That We See.

Death Of The Father Would Deprive Literature Of Many Of Its Pleasures. If There Is No Longer A Father, Why Tell Stories? Doesn't Every Narrative Lead Back To Oedipus? Isn't Storytelling Always A Way Of Searching For One's Origin, Speaking One's Conflicts With The Law, Entering Into The Dialectic Of Tenderness And Hatred?