What You Have To Do

Neither Dead Nor Alive, The Hostage Is Suspended By An Incalculable Outcome. It Is Not His Destiny That Awaits For Him, Nor His Own Death, But Anonymous Chance, Which Can Only Seem To Him Something Absolutely Arbitrary. He Is In A State Of Radical Emergency, Of Virtual Extermination.

Art Does Not Die Because There Is No More Art. It Dies Because There Is Too Much.

Power Is Only Too Happy To Make Football Bear A Diabolical Responsibility For Stupefying The Masses.

It Is The Corpse Of The Bourgeoisie That Separates Us. With Us, It Is That Class That Is The Carrier Of The Chromosome Of Banality.

Feelings Are Never True. They Play With Their Mirrors.