All True Language Is Incomprehensible, Like The

We Do Not Die Because We Have To Die; We Die Because One Day, And Not So Long Ago, Our Consciousness Was Forced To Deem It Necessary.

Theater Of Cruelty Means A Theater Difficult And Cruel For Myself First Of All. And, On The Level Of Performance, It Is Not The Cruelty We Can Exercise Upon Each Other By Hacking At Each Other’s Bodies, Carving Up Our Personal Anatomies, Or, Like Assyrian Emperors, Sending Parcels Of Human Ears, Noses, Or Neatly Detached Nostrils Through The Mail, But The Much More Terrible And Necessary Cruelty Which Things Can Exercise Against Us. We Are Not Free. And The Sky Can Still Fall On Our Heads. And The Theater Has Been Created To Teach Us That First Of All.

It Is Thus That The Few Rare Lucid Well-disposed People Who Have Had To Struggle On The Earth Find Themselves At Certain Hours Of The Day Or Night In The Depth Of Certain Authentic And Waking Nightmare States, Surrounded By The Formidable Suction, The Formidable Oppression Of A Kind Of Civic Magic Which Will Soon Be Seen Appearing Openly In Social Behavior.

Written Poetry Is Worth Reading Once, And Then Should Be Destroyed. Let The Dead Poets Make Way For Others. Then We Might Even Come To See That It Is Our Veneration For What Has Already Been Created, However Beautiful And Valid It May Be, That Petrifies Us.

We Must Believe In A Sense Of Life Renewed By The Theater, A Sense Of Life In Which Man Fearlessly Makes Himself Master Of What Does Not Yet Exist, And Brings It Into Being. And Everything That Has Not Been Born Can Still Be Brought To Life If We Are Not Satisfied To Remain Mere Recording Organisms.