Man Is A Robot With

Knowledge Subverts Love: In Proportion As We Penetrate Our Secrets, We Come To Loathe Our Kind, Precisely Because They Resemble Us.

Our Place Is Somewhere Between Being And Nonbeing - Between Two Fictions.

If We Manage To Last In Spite Of Everything, It Is Because Our Infirmities Are So Many And So Contradictory That They Cancel Each Other Out.

Utopia Is The Grotesque En Rose, The Need To Associate Happiness - That Is, The Improbable - With Becoming, And To Coerce An Optimistic, Aerial Vision To The Point Where It Rejoins Its Own Source: The Very Cynicism It Sought To Combat. In Short, A Monstrous Fantasy.

The Amount Of Chiaroscuro An Idea Harbors Is The Only Index Of Its Profundity.