Explanation Separates Us From Astonishment, Which Is

Language Should Almost Break Up Or Explode In Its Fruitless Effort To Contain So Many Meanings.

Theatre Is Simply What Cannot Be Expressed By Any Other Means; A Complexity Of Words, Movements, Gestures That Convey A Vision Of The World Inexpressible In Any Other Way.

God Is Dead. Marx Is Dead. And I Don't Feel So Well Myself.

For Me, It Is As Though At Every Moment The Actual World Had Completely Lost Its Actuality. As Though There Was Nothing There; Asthough There Were No Foundations For Anything Or As Though It Escaped Us. Only One Thing, However, Is Vividly Present: The Constant Tearing Of The Veil Of Appearances; The Constant Destruction Of Everything In Construction. Nothing Holds Together, Everything Falls Apart.

Beauty Is A Precious Trace That Eternity Causes To Appear To Us And That It Takes Away From Us. A Manifestation Of Eternity, And A Sign Of Death As Well.