In Love, Fidelity Signifies This Extended Victory:

It Is Thus Quite Simply False That Whereof One Cannot Speak (in The Sense Of 'there Is Nothing To Say About It That Specifies It And Grants It Separating Properties'), Thereof One Must Be Silent. It Must On The Contrary Be Named.

Let Us Say In Passing That Since (philosophical) Remedies Are Often Worse Than The Malady, Our Age, In Order To Be Cured Of The Plato Sickness, Has Swallowed Such Doses Of A Relativist, Vaguely Skeptical, Lightly Spiritualist And Insipidly Moralist Medicine, That It Is In The Process Of Gently Dying, In The Small Bed Of Its Supposed Democratic Comfort.

All Resistance Is A Rupture With What Is. And Every Rupture Begins, For Those Engaged In It, Through A Rupture With Oneself.

I Am Surprised To See That Today Everything That Does Not Amount To Surrender Pure And Simple To Generalized Capitalism, Let Us Call It Thus, Is Considered To Be Archaic Or Old-fashioned, As Though In A Way There Existed No Other Definition Of What It Means To Be Modern Than, Quite Simply, To Be At All Times Caught In The Dominant Forms Of The Moment.

Art Is Not Ideology. It Is Completely Impossible To Explain Art On The Basis Of The Homological Relation That It Is Supposed To Maintain With The Real Of History. The Aesthetic Process Decentres The Specular Relation With Which Ideology Perpetuates Its Closed Infinity. The Aesthetic Effect Is Certainly Imaginary; But This Imaginary Is Not The Reflection Of The Real, Since It Is The Real Of This Reflection.