Painting Can Feign Reality Without

As A Jealous Man, I Suffer Four Times Over: Because I Am Jealous, Because I Blame Myself For Being So, Because I Fear That My Jealousy Will Wound The Other, Because I Allow Myself To Be Subject To A Banality: I Suffer From Being Excluded, From Being Aggressive, From Being Crazy, And From Being Common.

Am I In Love? --yes, Since I Am Waiting. The Other One Never Waits. Sometimes I Want To Play The Part Of The One Who Doesn't Wait; I Try To Busy Myself Elsewhere, To Arrive Late; But I Always Lose At This Game. Whatever I Do, I Find Myself There, With Nothing To Do, Punctual, Even Ahead Of Time. The Lover's Fatal Identity Is Precisely This: I Am The One Who Waits.

What The Photograph Reproduces To Infinity Has Occurred Only Once: The Photograph Mechanically Repeats What Could Never Be Repeated Existentially.

Le Langage Est Une Peau: Je Frotte Mon Langage Contre L'autre. Language Is A Skin; I Rub My Language Against Another Language.

Language Is Neither Reactionary Nor Progressive; It Is Quite Simply Fascist; For Fascism Does Not Prevent Speech, It Compels Speech.