Writing Has Nothing To Do With Meaning.

The Philosopher Creates, He Doesn't Reflect.

Why Do Men Fight For Their Servitude As Stubbornly As Though It Were Their Salvation?

The Law Is Not Known, Since There Is Nothing In It To Know. We Come Across It Only Through Its Action, And It Acts Only Through Its Sentence And Its Execution. It Is Not Distinguishable From The Application. We Know It Only Through Its Imprint On Our Heart And Our Flesh: We Are Guilty, Necessarily Guilty. Guilt Is Like The Moral Thread Which Duplicates The Thread Of Time.

The Technocrat Is The Natural Friend Of The Dictator—computers And Dictatorship; But The Revolutionary Lives In The Gap Which Separates Technical Progress From Social Totality, And Inscribed There His Dream Of Permanent Revolution. This Dream, Therefore, Is Itself Action, Reality, And An Effective Menace To All Established Order; It Renders Possible What It Dreams About.

To Become Imperceptible Oneself, To Have Dismantled Love In Order To Become Capable Of Loving. To Have Dismantled One's Self In Order Finally To Be Alone And Meet The True Double At The Other End Of The Line. A Clandestine Passenger On A Motionless Voyage. To Become Like Everybody Else; But This, Precisely, Is A Becoming Only For One Who Knows How To Be Nobody, To No Longer Be Anybody. To Paint Oneself Gray On Gray.