Death Is The Mother Of Forms.

When We Learn To Speak, We Learn To Translate.

Art Is An Invention Of Aesthetics, Which In Turn Is An Invention Of Philosophers... What We Call Art Is A Game.

It Is The Revolution, The Magical Word, The Word That Is Going To Change Everything, That Is Going To Bring Us Immense Delight And A Quick Death.

Literature Is The Expression Of A Feeling Of Deprivation, A Recourse Against A Sense Of Something Missing. But The Contrary Is Also True: Language Is What Makes Us Human. It Is A Recourse Against The Meaningless Noise And Silence Of Nature And History.

Wisdom Lies Neither In Fixity Nor In Change, But In The Dialectic Between The Two.