In Our Present State Of

All True Language Is Incomprehensible, Like The Chatter Of A Beggar's Teeth.

These Terrifying Forms Which Advance On Me, I Feel That The Despair They Bring Is Alive. It Slips Into This Nucleus Of Life Beyond Which The Paths Of Eternity Extend. It Is Truly An Eternal Separation. They Slip Their Knives Into This Center Where I Feel Myself A Man, They Sever Those Vital Ties Which Bind Me To The Dream Of My Lucid Reality.

By Suicide I Introduce My Design In Nature, I Shall For The First Time Give Things The Shape Of My Will ... Now I Choose The Direction Of My Thought And The Direction Of My Faculties, My Tendencies, My Reality.

I Would Like To Write A Book Which Would Drive Men Mad, Which Would Be Like An Open Door Leading Them Where They Would Never Have Consented To Go, In Short, A Door That Opens Onto Reality.

Like All Magic Cultures Expressed By Appropriate Hieroglyphs, The True Theater Has Its Shadows Too, And, Of All Languages And All Arts, The Theater Is The Only One Left Whose Shadows Have Shattered Their Limitations.