Death Is The Mother Of Forms.

There Is Nothing Sacred Or Untouchable Except The Freedom To Think. Without Criticism, That Is To Say, Without Rigor And Experimentation, There Is No Science, Without Criticism There Is No Art Or Literature. I Would Also Say That Without Criticism There Is No Healthy Society.

It May Seem Paradoxical To Say That We Have Been Expelled From The Present, But It Is A Feeling We Have All Had At Some Moment. Some Of Us Experienced It First As A Condemnation, Later Transformed Into Consciousness And Action. The Search For The Present Is Neither The Pursuit Of An Earthly Paradise Nor That Of A Timeless Eternity: It Is The Search For A Real Reality.

Deserve Your Dream.

What Sets Worlds In Motion Is The Interplay Of Differences, Their Attractions And Repulsions. Life Is Plurality, Death Is Uniformity. By Suppressing Differences And Pecularities, By Eliminating Different Civilizations And Cultures, Progress Weakens Life And Favors Death. The Ideal Of A Single Civilization For Everyone, Implicit In The Cult Of Progress And Technique, Impoverishes And Mutilates Us. Every View Of The World That Becomes Extinct, Every Culture That Disappears, Diminishes A Possibility Of Life

When A Society Decays, It Is Language That Is First To Become Gangrenous. As A Result, Social Criticism Begins With Grammar And The Re-establishing Of Meanings