To See Was Terrifying, And To Stop

If Nothing Were Substituted For Everything, It Would Still Be Too Much And Too Little.

Every Artist Is Linked To A Mistake With Which He Has A Particular Intimate Relation. There Is The Mistake Of Homer, Of Shakespeare — Which Is Perhaps, For Both, The Fact Of Not Existing. Every Art Draws Its Origin From An Exceptional Fault, Every Work Is The Implementation Of This Original Fault, From Which Come To Us A New Light And A Risky Conception Of Plenitude.

The Disaster... Is What Escapes The Very Possibility Of Experience—it Is The Limit Of Writing. This Must Be Repeated: The Disaster De-scribes.

I Lean Over You, Your Equal, Offering You A Mirror For Your Perfect Nothingness, For Your Shadows Which Are Neither Light Nor Absence Of Light, For This Void Which Contemplates. To All That Which You Are, And, For Our Language, Are Not, I Add A Consciousness. I Make You Experience Your Supreme Identity As A Relationship, I Name You And Define You. You Become A Delicious Passivity.

To See Was Terrifying, And To Stop Seeing Tore Me Apart From My Forehead To My Throat.