Weak Thoughts, Weak Desires: He

A Writer Who Writes, ''i Am Alone''... Can Be Considered Rather Comical. It Is Comical For A Man To Recognize His Solitude By Addressing A Reader And By Using Methods That Prevent The Individual From Being Alone. The Word Alone Is Just As General As The Word Bread. To Pronounce It Is To Summon To Oneself The Presence Of Everything The Word Excludes.

The Less Manifest The Work, The Stronger: As Though A Secret Law Demanded It Always Be Hidden In What It Shows, Thus Showing What Must Remain Hidden, Only Showing It, In The End, By Dissimulation.

There Is Between Sleep And Us Something Like A Pact, A Treaty With No Secret Clauses, And According To This Convention It Is Agreed That, Far From Being A Dangerous, Bewitching Force, Sleep Will Become Domesticated And Serve As An Instrument Of Our Power To Act. We Surrender To Sleep, But In The Way That The Master Entrusts Himself To The Slave Who Serves Him.

But My Silence Is Real. If I Hid It From You, You Would Find It Again A Little Farther On.

To Write Is To Make Oneself The Echo Of What Cannot Cease Speaking - And Since It Cannot, In Order To Become Its Echo I Have, In A Way, To Silence It. I Bring To This Incessant Speech The Decisiveness, The Authority Of My Own Silence.