Each Of Us Is Incomplete Compared To

Realism Gives Me The Impression Of A Mistake. Violence Alone Escapes The Feeling Of Poverty Of Those Realistic Experiences. Only Death And Desire Have The Force That Oppresses, That Takes One's Breath Away. Only The Extremism Of Desire And Death Enable One To Attain The Truth.

We Want To Decipher Skies And Paintings, Go Behind These Starry Backgrounds Or These Painted Canvases And, Like Kids Trying To Find A Gap In A Fence, Try To Look Through The Cracks In The World.

By The Care She Lavishes On Her Toilet, By The Concern She Has For Her Beauty Set Off By Her Adornment, A Woman Regards Herself As An Object Always Trying To Attract Men's Attention.

What Causes [fragmentation] If Not A Need To Act That Specializes Us And Limits Us To The Horizon Of A Particular Activity? Even If It Turns Out To Be For The General Interest (which Generally Isn't True), The Activity That Subordinates Each Of Our Aspects To A Specific Result Suppresses Our Being As An Entirety. Whoever Acts Substitutes A Particular End For What He Or She Is, As A Total Being.

You Perhaps Now Know That Desire Reduces Us To Pulp.