There Is Only One Way Left To

Le Langage Est Une Peau: Je Frotte Mon Langage Contre L'autre. Language Is A Skin; I Rub My Language Against Another Language.

To Know That One Does Not Write For The Other, To Know That These Things I Am Going To Write Will Never Cause Me To Be Loved By The One I Love (the Other), To Know That Writing Compensates For Nothing, Sublimates Nothing, That It Is Precisely There Where You Are Not--this Is The Beginning Of Writing.

What I Claim Is To Live To The Full The Contradiction Of My Time, Which May Well Make Sarcasm The Condition Of Truth.

Le Toucher Est Le Plus De Mystificateur De Tous Les Sens, A' La Diffe Rence De La Vue, Qui Est Le Plus Magique. Touch Is The Most Demystifying Of All Senses, Different From Sight Which Is The Most Magical.

What Love Lays Bare In Me Is Energy.