The Best Principals Are Not Heroes; They

...what I Enjoy In A Narrative Is Not Directly Its Content Or Even Its Structure, But Rather The Abrasions I Impose Upon The Fine Surface: I Read On, I Skip, I Look Up, I Dip In Again. Which Has Nothing To Do With The Deep Laceration The Text Of Bliss Inflicts Upon Language Itself, And Not Upon The Simple Temporality Of Its Reading.

Isn’t Desire Always The Same, Whether The Object Is Present Or Absent? Isn’t The Object Always Absent? —this Isn’t The Same Languor: There Are Two Words: Pothos, Desire For The Absent Being, And Himéros, The More Burning Desire For The Present Being.

He Who Reads A Story Only Once Is Condemned To Read The Same Story His Whole Life.

I Think That Cars Today Are Almost The Exact Equivalent Of The Great Gothic Cathedrals: I Mean The Supreme Creation Of An Era, Conceived With Passion By Unknown Artists, And Consumed In Image If Not In Usage By A Whole Population Which Appropriates Them As A Purely Magical Object.

We Can Never Know, For The Good Reason That Writing Is The Destruction Of Every Voice, Every Origin. Writing Is That Neuter, That Composite, That Obliquity Into Which Our Subject Flees, The Black-and-white Where All Identity Is Lost, Beginning With The Very Identity Of The Body That Writes.