Who Ever Said That One Was Born

No One Will Ever Know From What Secret I Am Writing And The Fact That I Say So Changes Nothing.

I Would Like To Write You So Simply, So Simply, So Simply. Without Having Anything Ever Catch The Eye, Excepting Yours Alone, ... So That Above All The Language Remains Self-evidently Secret, As If It Were Being Invented At Every Step, And As If It Were Burning Immediately

I Believe In The Value Of The Book, Which Keeps Something Irreplaceable, And In The Necessity Of Fighting To Secure Its Respect.

The Blindness That Opens The Eye Is Not The One That Darkens Vision. Tears And Not Sight Are The Essence Of The Eye.

A Text Is Not A Text Unless It Hides From The First Comer, From The First Glance, The Law Of Its Composition And The Rules Of Its Game. A Text Remains, Moreover, Forever Imperceptible. Its Laws And Rules Are Not, However, Harbored In The Inaccessibility Of A Secret; It Is Simply That They Can Never Be Booked, In The Present, Into Anything That Could Rigorously Be Called A Perception.