Painting Can Feign Reality Without

Literature Is Like Phosphorus: It Shines With Its Maximum Brilliance And The Moment When It Attempts To Die.

To Eat, To Speak, To Sing (need We Add: To Kiss?) Are Operations Which Have The Same Site Of The Body For Origin.

Each Photograph Is Read As The Private Appearance Of Its Referent: The Age Of Photography Corresponds Precisely To The Explosion Of The Private Into The Public, Or Rather Into The Creation Of A New Social Value, Which Is The Publicity Of The Private: The Private Is Consumes As Such, Publicly.

Are Not Couturiers The Poets Who, From Year To Year, From Strophe To Strophe, Write The Anthem Of The Feminine Body?

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.