What Strikes Me Is The Fact That

I Don't Write A Book So That It Will Be The Final Word; I Write A Book So That Other Books Are Possible, Not Necessarily Written By Me.

Relations Of Power "are Indissociable From A Discourse Of Truth, And They Can Neither Be Established Nor Function Unless A True Discourse Is Produced, Accumulated, Put Into Circulation, And Set To Work. Power Cannot Be Exercised Unless A Certain Economy Of Discourses Of Truth Functions In, On The Basis Of, And Thanks To, That Power."

Confined On The Ship, From Which There Is No Escape, The Madman Is Delivered To The River With Its Thousand Arms, The Sea With Its Thousand Roads, To That Great Uncertainty External To Everything. He Is A Prisoner In The Midst Of What Is The Freest, The Openest Of Routes: Bound Fast At The Infinite Crossroads. He Is The Passenger Par Excellence: That Is, The Prisoner Of The Passage. And The Land He Will Come To Is Unknown—as Is, Once He Disembarks, The Land From Which He Comes. He Has His Truth And His Homeland Only In That Fruitless Expanse Between Two Countries That Cannot Belong To Him.

Do Not Think That One Has To Be Sad In Order To Be Militant, Even Though The Thing One Is Fighting Is Abominable.

One Cannot Attend To Oneself, Take Care Of Oneself, Without A Relationship To Another Person.