It Must Always Be Considered As Though

To Whom Could I Put This Question (with Any Hope Of An Answer)? Does Being Able To Live Without Someone You Loved Mean You Loved Her Less Than You Thought...?

Death Of The Father Would Deprive Literature Of Many Of Its Pleasures. If There Is No Longer A Father, Why Tell Stories? Doesn't Every Narrative Lead Back To Oedipus? Isn't Storytelling Always A Way Of Searching For One's Origin, Speaking One's Conflicts With The Law, Entering Into The Dialectic Of Tenderness And Hatred?

Literature Can No Longer Be Either Mimesis Or Mathesis But Merely Semiosis, The Adventure Of What Is Impossible To Language, In A Word: Text (it Is Wrong To Say That The Notion Of 'text' Repeats The Notion Of 'literature': Literature Represents A Finite World, The Text Figures The Infinite Of Language).

There Is Only One Way Left To Escape The Alienation Of Present Day Society: To Retreat Ahead Of It.

Is Not The Most Erotic Portion Of A Body Where The Garment Gapes? In Perversion (which Is The Realm Of Textual Pleasure) There Are No "erogenous Zones" (a Foolish Expression, Besides); It Is Intermittence, As Psychoanalysis Has So Rightly Stated, Which Is Erotic: The Intermittence Of Skin Flashing Between Two Articles Of Clothing (trousers And Sweater), Between Two Edges (the Open-necked Shirt, The Glove And The Sleeve); It Is This Flash Itself Which Seduces, Or Rather: The Staging Of An Appearance-as-disappearance.