Who Speaks Is Not Who Writes, And

Tout Ce Qui Est Anachronique Est Obsce' Ne. Everything Anachronistic Is Obscene.

The Incapacity To Name Is A Good Symptom Of Disturbance.

I Passed Beyond The Unreality Of The Thing Represented, I Entered Crazily Into The Spectacle, Into The Image, Taking Into My Arms What Is Dead, What Is Going To Die.

It Is Said That Mourning, By Its Gradual Labour, Slowly Erases Pain; I Could Not, I Cannot Believe This; Because For Me, Time Eliminates The Emotion Of Loss (i Do Note Weep), That Is All. For The Rest, Everything Has Remained Motionless. For What I Have Lost Is Not A Figure (the Mother), But A Being; And Not A Being, But A Quality (a Soul): Not The Indispensable, But The Irreplaceable.

Other Countries Drink To Get Drunk, And This Is Accepted By Everyone; In France, Drunkenness Is A Consequence, Never An Intention. A Drink Is Felt As The Spinning Out Of A Pleasure, Not As The Necessary Cause Of An Effect Which Is Sought: Wine Is Not Only A Philtre, It Is Also The Leisurely Act Of Drinking.